The Bastard Malfoy
by LadyRhiyana
Summary: [COMPLETED] In the 70s, Slytherin abounds with prejudice, intrigue, ambition and the overwhelming shadow of the Dark Lord... The Malfoy try to stay clear, but circumstances conspire to drag them down, into the darkness.
1. The Bastard

This is just a teaser, to see if anyone is interested in seeing Luc grow up in the Marauder's Era - he wouldn't be so tortured, of course, but there would still be the same conflict between ambition, pragmatism and pride (from a different point of view) This way, I can bring more Snape into it, explore his motives as well (shameless bribery, I know) Let me know if you think I should continue.  
  
It's not mine - after all the work I put into it it's not mine...  
  
The Bastard  
  
(1960)  
  
A cloaked and shrouded figure made its way through shadows and moonlight up the grand avenue towards the manor house. Although it moved silently, it didn't seem to be overly bothered with escaping detection - the many warning charms and alarms set around the perimeter of the estate ensured no one entered the grounds unnoticed, or even unapproved. Their intrusion would have been noted and followed from the moment they set foot on Malfoy land.  
  
No one was there to greet the intruder when they came to the front porch - but he had been expecting that, and silently bent down to place his burden in front of the door where it could not fail to be noticed. Then, without a backwards look, he gathered his cloak, drew himself up, and walked back into the shadows down the drive.  
  
The next morning, a house elf, opening the door, came face to face with a bundle of cloth on the front doorstep. With a surprised exclamation, she picked it up, almost dropping it when it let out a loud, outraged wail.  
  
The noise drew Brough, the family butler, whose intimidating presence and immense dignity had served the Malfoy for nearly a century. Taking the bundle from the terrified maid, he held it gingerly while he unwrapped the cloth. Much more controlled than the house elf, he didn't even blink when he uncovered a squalling baby, less than a day old, but already, by the slight roaring in Brough's ears, showing signs of power.  
  
Murmuring reassurances to infants was beneath Brough's dignity, but the Master had left strict orders that he was not to be disturbed by anything or anyone; and the baby's wailing was shattering the fragile peace of the morning. Feeling slightly ridiculous, Brough turned the full power of his gaze on the house elf, sending her for milk, before turning back to the child.  
  
The psychic pressure on his eardrums was increasing, so he shifted his grip and started, awkwardly, to croon softly to it, all the while swearing desperately in his mind. Taking the child outside seemed the only way to avoid waking up the entire household, so he quickly carried it out into the garden.  
  
The crying intensified, if that was possible, and Brough entertained a brief fantasy of infanticide (really, it wouldn't take much.) until the baby opened its eyes, cloudy and unfocused as they were, and he saw them for the first time. They were silver. Malfoy silver.  
  
****************************  
  
That day had seen one of the most furious scenes in a marriage notorious, at least among the staff at the Manor, for emotional scenes and tantrums. Lady Laetitia Malfoy, an ice queen with a vicious temper, did not take kindly to the news that her husband wished to raise his bastard son as his own, alongside his own six month old, legitimate son and heir.  
  
The staff noted that she had not objected to his affair with a seventeen- year old girl, or even to the fact that he had a bastard - but to the thought of raising his bastard with his heir, as a brother.  
  
Lord Marcus Malfoy, who had an equally vicious but much colder temper, had insisted that the boy was his flesh and blood, and therefore he would be raised as a Malfoy, and not by the type of muggle-loving peasants who adopted children from the orphanage.  
  
This was not sentiment - it was pride, sheer pride that would not allow a Malfoy (even a bastard) to be raised by canaille.  
  
While the staff made themselves scarce, gathering at points where they could hear the fierce argument properly, Brough held the baby, who, unaware of the furor it had created, was blissfully sleeping in a haze of contented hunger and warmth. Assigned by fate to the role of nurse, for the baby would not tolerate anyone else holding him, he was unaware of the picture he created - the immensely dignified and distinguished butler caught and twisted around the new baby's finger.  
  
The staff, watching with covert amusement, had no doubt that the baby would cause them all untold trouble in the future, and were all gleefully looking forward to it. None of them had any doubts that the Master's will would prevail - the Malfoy were many things, but they were not the type to let their children be raised anywhere other than in the family cradle.  
  
They might kill off unwanted bastard children, but they would not let them be raised by strangers, or worse, muggle-lovers.  
  
And that being said, the nurse prepared a new cradle in the nursery and had already introduced young Master Lucius to his new younger brother, who had yet to be named.  
  
***********************************  
  
Finally, after riding roughshod over his wife's objections and slapping her out of hysterics, the Master came to see his new son. Awake by now, the baby went quite willingly to his father, blinking owlishly at the source of the power that had bought him out of sleep.  
  
The bond of blood was strong here, thought Marcus, as strong as it had been with Lucius - the inborn power of the Malfoy, the ardeur, had reacted with a soul deep vibration, a recognition felt by both of them. There was no doubt the child was his.  
  
Apparating with him out into the grounds, into the Grove, the very heart of the Malfoy estate, he walked into the centre, felt as he always did the deep thrum of the power that lay within the earth and culminated under his feet in a great intersection of ley lines, and held his face up to the sun.  
  
Holding the child up to the sky, he said, "By my blood and the blood of my ancestors, I acknowledge and claim this child as my own; under all the laws of the gods and of men, he is my son. And his name is." here he looked deep into his son's eyes, searching for the soul, for his name, "His name is Lucien. Lucien Brandon."  
  
******************************** 


	2. Diagon Alley

OK, thanks to Lataradk's very supportive review (hugs and kisses to her) I now present chapter 2 of the Bastard Malfoy. A little bit more plot is revealed.  
  
Disclaimer - Harry Potter and everything else in his world all belong to JKR. I own Luc, Snape's father and all the other stuff you don't recognize.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER 2 - DIAGON ALLEY  
  
  
  
1971  
  
To a child raised in the remote heart of Wales, London was an overwhelming wealth of new sights, sounds and experiences. Diagon Alley, with its bustling crowd of wizards and witches of all kinds and classes was something far beyond the imagination.  
  
Luc and his brother Lucius were enchanted.  
  
Following along behind their father they struggled to keep the proper dignity and impassivity due to their stations, but were too fascinated by the exotic and rare merchandise offered to do anything more than look like solemn owls, their eyes wide and bright with excitement.  
  
It was the first time they had ever set foot beyond the Veil, the barrier that separated the Malfoy domain from the rest of the world - and the world outside, as they were finding, was a fascinating place. But dangerous, so their father had told them - the Malfoy were not supreme here, and not all wizards were well disposed towards the Clan - it would be well to remember to be on guard at all times. At home, not a soul would dare to lift a hand against them...but Diagon Alley was neutral ground, and here the Malfoy had the same status as any other customers - they were judged by their money alone, no more and no less.  
  
It was perhaps the only place in wizarding England, other than Hogwarts, where wizards of all classes, families and abilities mixed together and received the same treatment. Even Muggle-borns were welcome, if they had the money.  
  
Without noticing it, their steps had slowed, and their father had walked on ahead of them. The uncaring crowd had closed around them, cutting off any sight of his elegant, blonde figure - so they stood still for a while, waiting for him to notice their absence and return for them.  
  
They leaned against a wall on the side of the street, out of the way of the shoppers, and in companionable silence watched the crowd go past. It was the first time they had seen any wizards other than their father's guests, who were all High Clan aristocrats - here, there were people with rich, elegant robes, others with everyday sturdy garb, and some even walked abroad in patched, ragged clothes, their hair uncombed and their general demeanour ragged. Some even wore Muggle clothing - men and boys in blue breeches of some sort, and women and in flowing, billowy skirts and blouses.  
  
Lucius nudged his brother. That woman was wearing pants - and her daughter was wearing a skirt that showed off her entire legs below her knees...in public! In broad daylight...well, father had said Muggles were different, with lax standards and values - he had been right.  
  
It was all very strange.  
  
*********************************  
  
They had come to buy their supplies for Hogwarts - they had received their owls earlier in the year, and even though Lucius was six months older than Luc, they would be starting first year together.  
  
Their father had been pleased when he heard of their acceptance. They had been sent offers from Durmstrang earlier, but Marcus preferred that they should attend Hogwarts. Laetitia had pouted and asked what was wrong with Durmstrang - after all, her father had attended there - Marcus had merely looked at her, silver eyes coldly amused, and had said "Just so."  
  
Only the very highest and most aristocratic of families attended Durmstrang - they didn't allow anyone with middle class or lower blood in, and Muggle- borns were unequivocally, absolutely forbidden. The students had no contact with anyone outside their class and immediate circles - some even went so far as to say it promoted the complete xenophobia of the northern and eastern European wizards.  
  
He had explained later to his sons over breakfast, as Laetitia flounced off in a huff.  
  
"Hogwarts is one of the very rare places in this land where class, money, blood or strength make no difference to how one is treated. All students, theoretically, are treated equally - mudbloods mingle with High Clan, Weasleys with the Malfoy. And, as much as you may bemoan the fact, I believe it is necessary to gain a perspective of how other people live and think - no matter what you may think now, the circles of the High Clan are not the whole world, but only a small part of it. One should see and experience everything one can, and not just remain in a safe area of familiarity."  
  
The boys had exchanged glances at this speech, vaguely uncomfortable to hear their father express views so contrary to what they knew to be true. The Pure Blood ruled, the others served, and the Muggles were animals. It was a fact - what did their father think he was saying?  
  
Catching the look, Marcus had chuckled softly, but only said "You will understand, one day." Then he went back to his paper, and the boys back to their eggs.  
  
*********************************  
  
A voice dragged them out of their introspection. "What are you two doing here?" It was a man, tall and gaunt, but with black, black eyes filled with intelligence and dark knowledge. They recognized him immediately as one of their father's more infrequent guests.  
  
Straightening up, they bowed, Luc lower than Lucius, because he was a bastard son.  
  
"Lord Snape," said Lucius, face serious and tone respectful. Augustus Antoninus Snape, Lord of Clan Snape, who ruled vast tracts of land up near the Border, was not as rich or influential as his ancestors before the '45* had been, but he still wielded a great deal of influence. And besides, he was one of the most respected Potions Masters in the world - it was best not to get on his bad side.  
  
He regarded them with cold, detached amusement. "Messieurs Malfoy. I assume you are here to buy your Hogwarts supplies, and not on your own either."  
  
Luc was glad he was not the focus of those eyes, or the ruthless, cool intelligence behind them. However, he reminded himself that he was a Malfoy - and as such, he was superior to this man...or he would be, once he was grown. Lucius answered again, and Luc was happy to leave him to it.  
  
"Yes, sir. We came with our father, but were separated by the crowd."  
  
"Dear me," the older man mocked. "How careless of him. I assume he will be coming back?"  
  
Neither of them answered.  
  
A cruel smile curled the corner of Lord Snape's lips. "Very well, then," he murmured softly. "I will wait with you until he returns."  
  
And ensure that Marcus knew who had protected his sons, they all thought, but nothing was said. The gratitude of the Malfoy was a very useful thing, and not easily incurred. Augustus Snape had stumbled across a very profitable windfall today.  
  
He drew someone forward from behind him. "This is my son and heir," he said in a cool tone. "Severus Andronicus Snape." He was a small, thin boy with long, jet black hair and pale skin, and black eyes like his father, intelligent and insolent. "He will be starting at Hogwarts this year, too."  
  
Severus Snape, eleven years old, assessed his new acquaintances, paying extra attention because his father had taken the trouble to personally introduce him to them. That meant that they were important, and it would be best if he cultivated them and their friendship. Of course, he had heard of the Malfoy - who hadn't? - but he had never met the Lord's sons before.  
  
He hadn't known there were two of them, either. The blonde one was Lucius, the heir - he was the stereotypical Malfoy, with fair hair and silver eyes, aristocratic features and a willowy grace, and a very keen intelligence lurking in those eyes. He would be well taught, because Marcus Malfoy was one of the best players of the Game alive.  
  
But the other son - was it Luc? Lucien? He was dark-haired, and his features were utterly perfect, and utterly cold. Like Lucius he showed every sign of intelligence, but there was an ambition burning white hot - of course there would be, he was a bastard. He would have no place unless he won it for himself. He wondered just what niche he would carve out for himself, in the times to come.  
  
*******************************  
  
They stood around exchanging small talk, the three children too rigorously trained to show any signs of awkwardness in social situations, and the adult too experienced in the Game to display anything more than the appropriate manner.  
  
And then, after some five minutes, their father came back, the crowd miraculously parting for him, moving at slightly more than a dignified stroll. He stopped momentarily when he saw Snape standing with his children, and then resumed walking almost immediately. It would not do to display any more weakness than he already had by leaving them behind.  
  
Augustus had discretion enough to be completely impassive when he moved forward to greet him. Ill-mannered displays of triumph and gloating were for Gryffindors, not for High Clan Lords.  
  
"My Lord Malfoy. We were waiting for you." He couldn't resist a small barb, though.  
  
"My Lord Snape. It appears as though you have not been too bored."  
  
"No. I have just introduced my son to yours." He made an imperceptible gesture to Severus, who obediently came forward. "This is Severus. He is will enter his first year in September as well."  
  
Marcus could take a hint. So that was the price for his son's safety? Acknowledgement of the Snape heir? Perhaps even his patronage. Well, looking into those black eyes, at least he will become a proper Slytherin. He could even be turned to his advantage, if that intelligence was firmly allied to the Malfoy...his mind plotting and planning, he nodded his head to the boy, who bowed correctly in return.  
  
"I hope to see more of you in the future, Master Snape," he murmured automatically.  
  
The boy returned, "Thank you, sir." His eyes, in turn, were filled with busily turning wheels and speculation. The patronage of Lord Malfoy was no small thing, and it could take him far, if he played it correctly.  
  
The two brothers watched, Lucius calculating just how to make use of this new ally thrust upon him, and wondering just how to secure his complete loyalty, and Luc wondering what effect this would have on his ambitions and secret dreams.  
  
And Augustus, the engineer of the situation, who had in fact cast a small charm to distract the two boys and slow them down, watched and calculated how this could be used to lead to the restoration of the fortune and influence stripped from his Clan more than two hundred years ago.  
  
************************************  
  
Coming home from Diagon Alley, the journey was very different from the one six hours before - then, Marcus had been indulgent and amused, willing to entertain them with stories of Diagon Alley. Now, he was silent - his very silence cold enough that the boys knew they were in serious trouble.  
  
They had been warned to stay with him, that the crowds were huge and they could be easily separated. But in their fascination with the shops and new sights, they had allowed themselves to be distracted, and now their father was in debt to Lord Snape, a most undesirable and inconvenient position.  
  
Augustus was neck deep in league with this Dark Arts guru Lord Voldemort, whose organization was steadily growing in support of his proposed crusade against impurity. The authorities regarded him as a crackpot, a madman whose ideas would never lead anywhere, but Marcus suspected that, if given enough support, he could be very dangerous.  
  
Before now, he had taken pains to avoid any involvement with Voldemort, because he wanted no part in his crusade against the Ministry - really, what did he have to gain from overturning the establishment? He was already wealthy, and he already had most of the corrupted ministers in his pocket somehow or another. A revolution would only upset the status quo, and because the Malfoy were persistently seen as a "Dark" family, the Ministry would assume that he was involved - and that would be most inconvenient.  
  
But now - now there was a direct link between House Snape and House Malfoy, and that would only draw him further into the shadows where he didn't want to venture. He suspected, somehow, that eventually he would be left with no choice in the matter, and he would find himself having to choose.  
  
But not yet.  
  
Not yet.  
  
*************************************  
  
* - the Jacobite rebellion of 1745  
  
Read and review, please! Tell me what you think. 


	3. Relationships

Chapter 3 is here - just an investigation of the various relationships between the Slytherin boys, and bringing in Remus Lupin - because after reading Priestess of Avalon's big epic, I've decided that he has potential.  
  
Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the characters you recognize - so please don't sue me.  
  
CHAPTER 3 - RELATIONSHIPS  
  
Two young boys stood with complete confidence on the platform, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. The first thing one noticed about them was their unusual confidence - not the bravado of the brasher, more rowdy boys on the station, but the quiet confidence in themselves and their places in the world. It bordered on arrogance.  
  
The second thing one noticed was the remarkable resemblance between them - for all that one was blonde, and the other black haired, their features were almost identical. If anything, the blonde haired boy was a little more masculine, a little less beautiful - the black haired boy's features were flawless, perfect in their lines and...he was beautiful. There was no other way to describe him.  
  
A matched pair, if one thought of young boys in that way - and there were people in the world, especially in the High Clan, who did - but there was nothing about these two that even suggested that they were for sale. There was arrogance, breeding and old money in every line of their body; in their stance, in their accent and in the very way they held their heads.  
  
They were High Clan.  
  
****************************  
  
As they waited, perfectly content with each other's company, holding themselves aloof from the rest of the students, they were joined by another student. Black haired as well, but skinny, short and awkward - he had the accents of the High Clan but not the bearing, he had the arrogance but not the confidence. There was no sign of any money, old or new.  
  
What he did have was intelligence and insolence, in abundance - a razor sharp intellect and a vicious tongue, and no mask to disguise it - merely an insolent manner that was designed to keep people away and at a distance.  
  
The two boys, brothers, were Lucius and Lucien Malfoy - and the other was Severus Snape, who was a ragged crow to these two sleek falcons. There was no overt sign that the brothers resented his intrusion into their midst - but then, they were too polite and politically aware to be so obvious - just as there was no sign that Snape resented being forced to cultivate their friendship.  
  
He was too afraid of his father to show anything that could disrupt his plans.  
  
They didn't speak - Snape had nothing to say, because he rarely did, and the two brothers rarely needed words to communicate. They weren't twins, but they were the closest thing to it - they'd had the same wet nurse, had grown up together, and were only six months apart - there was a bond between them stronger than the conventional blood bond between immediate family members.  
  
The three of them stood there, an uneasy alliance of two and another, until the train came and it was time to board. In all the time they had been waiting, they had not spoken once, either to each other or to any of the other students - it was as if they had never really been there at all.  
  
***********************************  
  
They boarded silently, seeking and finding a compartment of their own, but no sooner had they sat down and made themselves comfortable than another boy poked his head in the compartment shyly, saw them, and hesitantly came inside.  
  
He found himself the focus of three sets of eyes, all with an identical expression of detached curiosity, and asked, "Can I sit with you in here? It's awfully crowded, out there." The eyes, two sets of identical silver ones and a pair of jet black ones, all assessed him - his good but slightly worn robes, his easy manners - not High Clan, but still better than usual.  
  
They exchanged glances, and then nodded silently.  
  
He breathed a sigh of relief and sat down, rearranging his robes and frankly examining them. He didn't hold out his hand - that was not a High Clan custom.  
  
"My name is Lupin," he said to them. "Remus Lupin. I'm in first year."  
  
The fair-haired one, who was probably the leader, nodded in return. "Malfoy," he said easily, with confidence. "Lucius Malfoy." Remus glanced at him and nodded in greeting.  
  
He indicated his dark haired brother. "This is my brother Lucien - but he prefers to be called Luc." They exchanged nods.  
  
The other one, the skinny, pale one, was Severus Snape - the nod was no more than a perfunctory gesture, and the dark eyes went back to staring out the window. If it hadn't been for the amused glances the two brothers exchanged, Lupin might have been offended - but the Malfoy brothers' manners put him at ease.  
  
They were first years, too - and while Snape stared determinedly out the window, Lucius, Luc and Remus held an easy discussion about Hogwarts, about what they had heard of the place, and what they thought it would be like. None of them had any desire to see the talk turn personal, Luc and Lucius because of High Clan reserve, and Remus because of his own secret, but there was enough to talk about without revealing each other's deepest, darkest secrets.  
  
Eventually, about halfway into the journey, when Remus had become accustomed to their sardonic, cynical sense of humour and their peculiar insight into the world and its affairs (really, they saw the world in quite an unusual way) - Snape deigned to join the conversation.  
  
He brought it around to Potions, and the Dark Arts, revealing a mutual interest for all of them - they all had a healthy knowledge of the Dark Arts and their powers and applications.  
  
Here, quite unexpectedly, Lupin found three companions who had read the same books as he, who had the same interests and could converse with considerable expertise on them - and on different aspects of them. The Malfoy were manipulators - subtle connivers, they preferred undetectable poisons and precise mind control - Snape's passion was Potions, and all their forms and uses and variations. And Lupin himself preferred the practical, hands on side - he didn't mind getting his hands dirty, and his interest, unlike the others', was purely academic.  
  
His three new friends all hungered for power - but Lupin hungered only for knowledge.  
  
Other than that, they found in each other kindred spirits, and the journey to Hogwarts sped by in conversation and intellectual fascination.  
  
***********************************  
  
Hogwarts Castle was everything their parents had said it would be, and more. Majestically perched on a rising hill, with a lake and the green grounds spread out below, it seemed like a fairy castle from the stories their nurse had told them when they'd been very young and still impressionable.  
  
But, being High Clan, they showed nothing of their reactions - it simply wasn't done.  
  
Lupin seemed to have joined their little group, and the other High Clan boys who'd joined them later on the train - perhaps he had adopted them, or they him. But he sat beside them in the boat, gawking, quickly becoming impassive when he saw their reactions. And then laughing when he caught their eyes and saw the amusement lurking there - realizing that although nothing showed on their faces, what little they did show was all in their eyes.  
  
They were very unlike the other boys he had met in Diagon Alley a week ago, when he had first gone to buy school supplies. James Potter and Sirius Black were Hogwarts first years, like Remus, like Snape and the two Malfoy - but they were, in every other way, completely different.  
  
Remus supposed it was all in their upbringing - his three present companions were High Clan - the aristocratic elite of the wizarding world, the small circles of families who, between them, owned and controlled most of wizarding England. They were almost a breed apart - with their own traditions, beliefs and ways, they tended to hold themselves aloof from the rest of the world.  
  
However, James and Sirius, from what they had told him, were from the upper middle class - an entirely different world. They were quite well to do, and their families were popular and well liked, but were nowhere near the level of the Malfoy. They were more approachable, more friendly and open - but compared to the High Clan boys, with their reserve and shadowed, cynical eyes, they were so innocent it was hard to believe they were the same age, physically at least.  
  
Remus' eyes were shadowed, too, and not because he was High Clan - rather than politics and the Game, he had been raised on cold, hard reality that was hammered home every full moon. He knew, had known ever since the werewolf bit him as a very young child, that the world was not a fair place, and bad things did happen to even the most innocent of children.  
  
He had felt so much older than James and Sirius, but had enjoyed basking in the warmth of their friendship, freely and generously offered - with them, he felt like he could be innocent again, that the world could be the just, fair place they believed it to be.  
  
With the High Clan children, with their cool acceptance of reality and its implications, he felt intellectual companionship and a kind of kinship - equality, of sorts, an acceptance that, in experience at least, he was their equal. They would not make him as welcome as Sirius and James did, initially at least, because friendship was never offered freely and generously in the High Clan - and because trust was always so very hard both to earn and to give.  
  
But they would appreciate him - even if they did look at him with assessing eyes and note every nuance of his actions and his thoughts, and then calculate how he could best fit in with their plans.  
  
But that didn't quite sum up what he found with them - here were likeminded companions, when before he had felt so much older than everyone else - even if there would always be a subtle distinction between himself and the High Clan, even if he would never have a pedigree millennia in the making, he would always have that intellectual friendship. And maybe it might develop even farther than that.  
  
He didn't know, but he knew that he wanted to find out.  
  
******************************  
  
Severus Andronicus Snape, eldest and only son of Augustus Antoninus Snape, who was one of the self-styled Lord Voldemort's greatest supporters, wondered just what he was doing here, and what he had done to deserve it.  
  
Of course, he was a Snape - and Snapes had attended Hogwarts since the Founding - but that didn't mean that he himself had to. They didn't have nearly enough money to afford seven years at Hogwarts, the premier wizarding school in England and with fees to match - but practical considerations like that didn't matter when compared with familial pride.  
  
Practical considerations, in House Snape, meant ambition and the success of the Dark Lord - and his father would do anything in the name of ambition and Lord Voldemort. Even ingratiate himself with the Malfoy, who wanted nothing to do with him - even command his only son to do anything possible to win the friendship of Malfoy's heirs.  
  
How he was going to do that when Malfoy's heirs knew damned well what he was trying to do, and even why, he didn't know. There was nothing between them but mutual suspicion and an obligation - they were all three of them on their guard and very wary of anything that might give the other an advantage.  
  
At least they were worthy opponents - the other students he had seen, with the exception of this Remus Lupin, seemed to be infantile, immature and more concerned with quidditch and the latest fashions than learning and the realities of society.  
  
Snape could play the Game, and play it well - but he preferred the cleaner, more honest art of Potions than politics...it was the only thing his father ever taught him that he enjoyed. Potions and learning new things, new facts and magic - that was the only reason he was looking forward to Hogwarts.  
  
He knew some of his classmates already - the Malfoy brothers, Lupin, who showed surprising knowledge and insight (perhaps it was worth watching him, just to see if he could be turned to his advantage), and his other peers in the High Clan, who were on the boat next to them.  
  
Rayden Lestrange, his cousin Shan Andahni, and their elusive and slippery companion Brandon Avery - together, they formed a loose alliance aimed at defense against anyone who came against them, and especially against Lestrange's sadistic elder brother, who was in third year now.  
  
Snape tolerated and was almost respectful of Lestrange, who was a very dangerous player, ruthless and elegant and Machiavellian - nothing ever discomposed him, nothing ever shook his sardonic sangfroid. He was fiercely protective of his cousin Shan, who was more open than Lestrange, but no less sharp. Snape usually had nothing to do with Shan, simply because he preferred to ignore him rather than incur Rayden's wrath any more than was necessary.  
  
But Brandon Avery, who was Snape's cousin on his mother's side - Snape hated him, and it was returned with equal measure. Languid, jaded and perpetually world weary, he was so falsely, affectedly egocentric that it drove Snape crazy - and knowing this, Avery exaggerated his airs and affectations even further. Snape had tried to poison him, without success, more than once - but after his father's last punishment had restrained himself to hexes and curses, of which he knew legion. They constantly sharpened their wits trying to cause the other trouble, but if anyone else stepped into their quarrel...they were family, and they shared blood.  
  
They might threaten and try to kill each other, but should anyone else try, they would find themselves facing both boys, united by common danger.  
  
No one ever said High Clan alliances were logical.  
  
The last boy was Dirk Courtney - scion of an ancient House, insolent and in- your-face, his manner was carefully cultivated to shock and repel, as Snape's was, but he didn't have Snape's bitterness, because his father doted on him and would never dream of causing his son harm. He was regarded as something of a weak mark, but was protected by his close friendship with Luc Malfoy, who seemed to make a habit of picking up strays and taking them under his wing.  
  
******************************  
  
There they were - seven High Clan boys formed into two close alliances with some loose hangers-on, and one adopted boy who was an outsider, but had the potential to be one of them, all of them on their way to Hogwarts. Among the eight eleven-year-old boys, secret agendas, plans and goals abounded - politics had started already, alliances formed and boundaries made and tested, and it was still only the first night.  
  
It was going to be an interesting year.  
  
****************************  
  
A/N - I believe that the Marauder's time is far more innocent than 1980 - so if the boys seem a bit young, this is because they haven't yet fallen under Voldemort's influence. Don't worry - they'll lose all innocence soon, as soon as I decide how.  
  
A reviewed author is an inspired one!! Tell me what you think. Read and review. 


	4. The Sorting

  
  
CHAPTER 4 - THE SORTING  
  
The Great Hall was huge - larger than the hall at the Castle, the common name for Malfoy Manor. The hall at the Castle would not be caught dead with an enchanted ceiling - really, it was so ostentatious, it was laughable - but then, the hall at the Castle was not normally seen by anyone other than the highest echelons of the High Clan.  
  
Hogwarts, on the other hand, was home to the most curious mixture of people - high clan, upper and middle and lower class purebloods, half-bloods and even worse, muggleborns.  
  
Children of the highest High Clan, Lucius and Luc watched with eyes coloured by prejudice, somewhat tempered by their father's odd policy of tolerance - he believed that even muggleborns had their place, just that they should not exceed it. Certainly, there was no need to go around wiping them out...just as long as they never mixed their non-magical blood with the pureblood of a Clan.  
  
It was simple science - muggleborns had ancestors who had no magic. Therefore, if they intermarried with purebloods, they introduced the non- magical gene into the blood, and suddenly there was a chance of producing a squib.  
  
And that would be unacceptable.  
  
Nevertheless, there was a certain detached fascination about those people who had been born into a world with no magic. They thought so differently, saw the world with such a skewed viewpoint. Luc wondered, absently, what it would be like to not be able to do magic. And then he slammed the door shut on that particular thought - it was far too horrible to even think about.  
  
Life without magic? It would be like life without sight, or sound, or touch - without such a necessary part of his soul, he would probably wither away...it was unthinkable.  
  
He turned to his companions to see their reaction to the hall's ceiling, currently reflecting a clear night sky and full moon. Lucius, typically, was completely impassive. He might have been staring out the window of the train at absolutely nothing. Snape was looking around disdainfully, his almost sneer the very mirror of his father's - standing together, Lucius and Snape could have been mirror images of their fathers; he wasn't sure Snape would appreciate the comparison.  
  
Lupin was staring in unabashed interest - Luc watched him closely for a moment. He was not High Clan, not even upper middle class, but something in his bearing, in his eyes, showed that he shared some of the High Clan mindset - no, not the prejudices, not the social thinking, but the deeper instincts and truths. Only the strong, the powerful, the cunning survived in this world, and the weak, innocent and pure survived only if they had powerful protection.  
  
His eyes were much older than an eleven year old boy's should be, and filled with intelligence and knowledge - just as Lucius', as Luc's, as all the other children's in their group were. And Luc approved of that. Lupin was intelligent, well versed in the Dark Arts and, most important of all, he was a realist.  
  
He would do well in Slytherin - but Luc, watching his eyes wander over to two boys clowning around and laughing, felt that perhaps he was not so accepting of the harsh truths of life as he should be. Exchanging a glance with Rayden and Brandon, both shrewd judges of character, he raised an eyebrow and indicated Lupin, specifically the direction his eyes were taking.  
  
Brandon's heavy-lidded, languid grey eyes and Rayden's sharp, green eyes focused on the other two clowns - James Potter and Sirius Black, upper middle class, new money, fathers influential in the Ministry - and then slid back to the unconscious longing on Lupin's face. They came back to Luc, and Brandon shook his head.  
  
Lucius, catching this, sighed softly. "Gryffindor," he murmured in his brother's ear. "Damn. He had such potential..."  
  
Snape snorted softly, but didn't deny the assessment. His insolent black eyes looked over the crowd to where Black and Potter were waving at Lupin, and he sneered (really, he did it so well). Black, the more outrageous of the two, a half-blood whose mother had run off with an Irish muggle conman, scowled back at him and made a rude gesture. Then he grinned brilliantly, displaying all the charm of his Irish father, when Lupin snorted with laughter.  
  
Dirk Courtney, insolent and mocking, and Shan Andahni, with his infectious laugh and grin, looked at Snape and wondered if it was safe to say anything. He looked murderous - his father and Black's maternal grandfather had crossed swords more than once, Snape senior coming out second best. Obviously deciding it was best to be discreet, Dirk suppressed a comment about love filled glances and crowded rooms. But Shan, who had had the same thought, could see it in his face and stifled a most dangerous chuckle.  
  
House Snape was not the most popular of Clans, and not just because of their cutting sarcasm and insolence. However, they were quite powerful wizards, magically if not politically, and it was best not to offend them face to face. Especially if they had Malfoy patronage, as was indicated by the uneasy way the three of them stood - as if they had been told to form a group and learn to work together.  
  
Speaking of groups, it seemed that this Lupin would not become part of theirs, after all...Shan was a little regretful. He had almost decided to like the odd, quiet boy - now he wouldn't get the chance to see if it could have worked out. Not as driven by ambition and the Game as his cousin Rayden, Shan could make friends without first knowing whether they could be of use...  
  
Ah well.  
  
He would be sorted into Slytherin, because the Andahni had been Slytherins since the Founding, and he would spend the next seven years alongside the rest of his High Clan companions.  
  
Worse things could happen.  
  
**********************************  
  
The Sorting had begun - the mass of black robed first years, anxiously huddled at the foot of the dais, would be tested and sorted into the Houses; and the House they entered would probably decide the rest of their future.  
  
Luc had no worries about his future. He knew exactly what he wanted, and had a general idea of how to achieve it...and, looking across the room at another first year, much as Snape had watched Black, he stared at a golden haired, blue eyed boy who seemed to stand in a perpetual spotlight, surrounded by adulation. Unlike Black, he was High Clan, and his charisma was all the stronger for it - those blue eyes came up to meet his, and they audibly clicked.  
  
Recognition.  
  
Instant hatred.  
  
Both mouths, eerily familiar, curved into a very mirthless smile, a smile that promised no good and instant enmity.  
  
Lucius, following his gaze, saw the familiarity between their features - black haired, grey eyed Luc could have been this blonde, blue eyed boy's brother...he did nothing more than raise an eyebrow fractionally. Snape looked at him, eyes mocking.  
  
"That is the de Sauvigny heir?" he asked silkily, amusedly. "The legitimate brother?"  
  
Lucius looked at him, but the black eyes remained fixed, laughing, on his. "Yes, that's Caine."  
  
"Hmmm," murmured Snape, intrigued. The more he looked at Caine, Luc's half brother on his mother's side, the legitimate heir to House de Sauvigny because his parent's had been married, the more he disliked him. He glowed, and he knew it - basking in his own limelight, in the knowledge that he was rich, he was handsome, he was intelligent, and he would one day be very powerful...and that he would be a Gryffindor, one of Society's golden children.  
  
Although the only difference between him and Lucius was that Caine's parents had both been Gryffindors, Snape actually liked Lucius better...and right now, that was saying a lot. Lucius at least did not expect adulation as his due. He didn't expect the world to fall into his lap, and he was...he was aware of his responsibilities, of his place in the world. It was an instinctive feeling, really - one of the indefinable things that was essentially High Clan Slytherin, and could never be explained fully to anyone not of the blood, of the circle. Lucius was everything a Malfoy should be, and Caine was a very pale imitation, mocking the original with his very existence.  
  
Looking at the three half brothers, Lucius and Lucien and Caine (oh, yes, they all knew the de Sauvigny heir and his story) Brandon realized that Luc resembled both his half brothers - oddly, his features mirrored Lucius' and his profile mirrored Caine's...or perhaps it was his stance, his attitude, his mask that mirrored Lucius', and his resemblance to Caine was physical.  
  
But no one would mistake their blood kinship, even with the dramatic difference in colouring, even though Lucius and Caine didn't resemble each other at all.  
  
Rayden and he had wondered about this, once - but they were not Ravenclaws to be insatiably curious. Unless the resemblance hid or signified a great secret there was no real significance to it, and as all the world knew of Luc Malfoy's tangled familial bonds and the reasons for it, the secret had well and truly lost its power.  
  
It was enough to know.  
  
*******************************  
  
Finally, the eye contact was broken when McGonagall, a strict, severe old witch buttoned up to her throat in all encompassing robes, called out "de Sauvigny, Adam". One of the admirers from the group around Caine walked up to the dais and sat on the chair, wincing a little when the Hat was lowered onto his head.  
  
He need not have worried - the Hat wasted no time before sending him to the Gryffindor table. Caine himself, who was next, was barely seated on the chair and the hat barely lowered onto his head before it bellowed out Gryffindor. Luc smiled grimly, a little bitterly, as he watched the Gryffindor table cheer and reach out to enfold him.  
  
Rayden wondered where that bitterness had come from, and just what Caine had done to provoke it...Luc was very even tempered, as were all Malfoy, (or perhaps it was safer to say they were very well controlled) so it must have been something major to induce the hatred he saw in those silver eyes as he watched the de Sauvigny heir accept his rightful place in society.  
  
Still watching with a strange, self mocking smile playing bitterly at the edge of his lips, Luc watched "de Sauvigny, Dominic" walk up to be Sorted - a black haired, confident boy who stood tall and proud - and barely restrained himself to a blink when his robes turned green and silver, rather than red and gold. Dominic himself seemed to be stunned, but after one last glance towards his equally surprised cousins, whose eyes had gone blank, and then had begun to show signs of dawning suspicion and prejudice, he headed towards the Slytherin table, who were watching gleefully as one of the de Sauvigny, who had been self-righteous Gryffindors for generations, was finally sent their way.  
  
His cousin, Michel, was also sent to Slytherin - the relief on Dominic's face was completely unfeigned and more than a little guilty. Luc watched puzzled - Michel, even from here, looked rather dreamy and less than calculating...  
  
After the de Sauvigny, a pretty, red haired girl named Lily Evans was called, and placed into Gryffindor where she was welcomed with laughter and smiles from Sirius Black and the rest of them. Her sister, Katherine, was dark haired, and she threw a smile towards Lily as she sat on the chair, obviously confident about where she would eventually end up.  
  
She was placed in Slytherin.  
  
Incredulous looks came from the Gryffindor table, and dead silence from the Slytherin table. They were all racking their brains for any families with the surname Evans - and coming up short. No, it couldn't be, could it? Of course not. Mudbloods weren't allowed in Slytherin...but it was true, someone said. She had no wizarding blood at all...  
  
Her steps faltered as she approached the table and she saw the looks in their eyes. This was not good. Not good at all...she chose a spot, sat down and avoided everyone's eyes.  
  
Only mildly interested, Luc wondered just how long she'd last before she was torn apart.  
  
So, Avery, Andahni and Courtney had been placed in Slytherin, as everyone had known they would, and Black went to Gryffindor as they had all foreseen. Lestrange joined his elder brother and his cousin at the Slytherin table, and then it was Lupin's turn.  
  
Lupin didn't know what he wanted. He didn't want to be in Hufflepuff, he knew that much...but he couldn't decide between Slytherin and Gryffindor. He knew that in Gryffindor he would become great friends with Black and Potter, if he made it in. No doubt his days would be filled with pranks and laughter and all the immaturity of boys raised to be boys, not aristocrats.

He would feel ancient compared to them.  
  
In Slytherin he would be among intellectual equals, with people who thought as he did, who knew of reality and life. But he didn't think he was capable of the dispassionate coldness with which so many Slytherins approached life - he knew that he wasn't capable of playing their power games and manipulations. He could learn, but it was more than ability, it was simply that he didn't believe he was suited to the necessary ruthlessness. As much as he appreciated their humour and their intelligence, he knew that they were much deeper than that, and the coldness went soul deep, was instinctive, ingrained by the customs and ways of a class that he didn't know, could never be part of.  
  
He was not High Clan, and he never would be.  
  
So he chose Gryffindor, innocence and friendship over Slytherin, cynicism and alliances. And he knew, even as he joined his cheering housemates, that he had made the right choice.  
  
Finally it was Luc's turn.  
  
As soon as he heard his name called, he heard the mutters, the speculation - not a whisperer was less than certain he would be a Slytherin. He didn't take offence - he was more than certain he would be, too. Not that all of Malfoy blood were automatically put into Slytherin - there had been one exception, in more than a thousand years, but he had not even been raised as a Malfoy - but Luc knew that he was a Slytherin. He could feel it, instinctively.  
  
However, the hat was less certain. He heard its voice in his head as he watched the faces turned towards him from the Slytherin table.  
  
_"Hmm, a Malfoy! That should automatically qualify you for Slytherin, but wait, you've de Sauvigny blood...the de Sauvigny are a mixed House, producing both Gryffindor and Slytherin. Perhaps you would...? But no, there's too much ruthlessness here, even at eleven, and ambition, oh my, you've got ambition...You've a thirst to prove yourself, don't you? Courage, oh yes, but tempered by cold pragmatism, and a complete lack of scruples, oh my boy, I pity whoever crosses you... And yet, you've a strong protective streak, and you know how to love - you've got honour, but it's High Clan, Slytherin honour... You're too cold, too strong for Gryffindor, but Slytherin...you could rule Slytherin. Yes, Slytherin will make you great."  
_  
And his robes gained a green and silver trim, and he headed towards the Slytherin table, where his brother shortly joined him, followed in due time by Snape.  
  
They sat in a group, all seven of them - the two Malfoy brothers, Snape, Avery and Lestrange and Andahni and Courtney - not a complete whole, but a slightly uneven group made up of two factions, which in themselves were not wholes, either.  
  
Luc watched the two de Sauvigny cousins as they came to grips with the fact that they would be spending the next seven years with children from a completely different class - the House of de Sauvigny was a High Clan, but they were generally not from the hereditary Slytherin Clans, they were predominantly Gryffindor. They knew their housemates as acquaintances, people they met only socially because they moved in different circles and played different games.  
  
He wondered, somewhat cruelly, if after being thrown in at the deep end, whether they would learn to swim or if they would drown. He couldn't care less - he was not part of the House, just because his mother was a de Sauvigny it didn't mean he had anything to do with its members. He was their closest blood relative in Slytherin, but that didn't mean he had any obligation to look after them at all.  
  
Shared blood meant nothing when it wasn't acknowledged.  
  
He avoided Lucius and Snape's knowing eyes when he made that resolve, and gave all his further attention to his food.  
  
Just before they left the Hall to go to their beds, he caught a further glance of a dark haired girl, standing on her own, curiously alone and defenceless amongst the alliances and blood ties that tied all the other Slytherins together. She was even more helpless than the de Sauvigny, he realized - they at least knew their classmates and something of their ways. Coming fresh from the Muggle world, she would have no idea of how to survive, and she had no convenient blood ties unacknowledged or not, or anyone to act as a protector.....  
  
He spared a moment to watch her, to notice how well she hid her fear, and when he was watching, her eyes lifted to his.  
  
They were green, and he could see all the way through them into her soul.  
  
Stunned, he tore his eyes away from hers, and hurried away, not looking back.  
  
*********************************  
  
Kate watched him go. She knew who he was, knew what he was - a scion of the greatest House in Slytherin, worldly, charismatic, ruthless and intelligent, but a bastard. He had no real power in this school, among these children, other than what he would win himself.  
  
And it seemed, from the way he stood proud and arrogant among the group of seven boys, the dominant first years, that he had indeed carved himself out a position of his own. He was a player in his own right, not because his brother was the Malfoy heir.  
  
Perhaps, just perhaps, he would be strong enough to shield her from the consequences of being a mudblood in Slytherin - being a Malfoy, he would have an automatic protection anyway, bastard or no, but Kate had no wizarding blood whatsoever. She had no protection at all - so that meant that she had to find herself a strong protector.  
  
If she had to be in Slytherin, she was going to survive and she was going to triumph. She was not going to cower as they all thought mudbloods should, she was going to rule. If she couldn't do it openly, then she would do it through a strong façade from the shadows.  
  
Katherine Evans was not going to give in – not to _them_. Oh, no, not to them…  
  
**************************************


	5. An Irresistable Offer

Hello all, I hope you're still all with me, even after it looked like I wasn't updating this fic…the details were bogging me down. Have some ideas now – I just have to get them out onto paper. Anyway, here's the latest installment. Hope you enjoy. Please, tell me what you think.

Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. Don't sue me.

CHAPTER 5 – THE CLAIMING

She had slept with one eye half open all night long. 

Coming down to breakfast the next day, she blinked sleepily – looked over to the Gryffindor table to where her sister was, laughing happily with the boys they had both met on the train.

James Potter, with his unruly dark hair and cute dark eyes. Good natured, with a slightly wicked sense of humour; they had struck up a friendship immediately. But he had seemed to be more taken with Lily, though – that was nothing new to Kate.

Sirius Black, black haired and black eyed, silver tongued with dancing, laughing eyes. A little irresponsible, true – in fact, more than a little careless of the consequences of his actions………brought up by sensible, middle class, responsible and staid parents, she and Lily had been taught to look upon such immaturity with disfavour.

It was amusing, true, but still………she couldn't see the point in it. 

Pettigrew – short and dumpy, a rather odd companion for the two others, really. There was something about him – something wrong, something weak………she mistrusted him instinctively, although she could not say way.

Her eyes shifted, moving along to the boy who had introduced himself, rather aloofly, as Caine de Sauvigny. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and the bearing of a man who knew his place in the world, was utterly and completely sure of his position. 

He was the Heir to Clan de Sauvigny – although she still didn't have the slightest idea what that meant. And as for his relationship to Luc, which everyone but her seemed to know………

She wondered just how different the wizarding world was from the normal (muggle………was that the word?) world – and just how much she didn't know, didn't understand. She had the oddest feeling that her lack of knowledge would be very, very dangerous, especially in Slytherin………

How could she survive the undercurrents she couldn't see? She didn't even know about the normal wizarding world, let alone the very different, much darker aristocracy that she sensed ruled in Slytherin. 

The other girls in her dormitory had already made it more than clear that she was an outsider, that she was less than nothing in their eyes. She'd been prepared for it, had known it was coming, but still………it had been a very difficult night. 

If she didn't gain some standing, some kind of protection soon, she would be eaten alive by the other girls, by the boys she sensed thought of her as nothing but some kind of lower life form. She needed some power – either that or a protector with enough credit and enough face to protect her without bringing himself, or herself down.

Last night she had focused on Luc Malfoy, the younger brother, the bastard………

But she sensed that he was actually too close to the heart of the undercurrents that flowed through Slytherin – to truly avoid notice, she would have preferred a neutral party, one without too many enemies or someone who was on the fringes and wouldn't be tangled up so tightly in the politics.

And Luc? Well, he was a Malfoy. And if she hadn't known what that meant when she first got on the train yesterday, she knew, thanks to hours of observation and eavesdropping, something of what it meant now. 

The Malfoy, from what she had noticed, were the heart of the unofficial Slytherin aristocracy. The most powerful and the most courted, the most resented and the most hated. There was a twisted relationship between the rest of Slytherin and the Malfoy – they were the centre, and they were resented for that; they were the balance and the power and they were courted and flattered and desired by anyone and everyone who ever wanted to gain power.

Slytherin's golden children – the light shone on Lucius Malfoy and his younger brother much as the light in Gryffindor shone on Caine de Sauvigny. They both hated Caine – that much was more than obvious – but what was the truth of the relationship between them?

She made the mistake of asking Michel de Sauvigny, who had seemed rather more approachable than any of the others she had met so far. 

Sitting down beside him at breakfast, she discreetly nudged him into looking towards the Gryffindor table, but having been raised in a muggle household, with no need for intrigue or power games, she came straight to the point. 

"So what's going on with the Malfoy brothers and your cousin?"

She didn't pause to think that perhaps, asking Michel intrusive questions about his cousins (both of them, really), was a major faux pas………

Michel's eyes narrowed fractionally, but knowing she was muggleborn, he made an exception for her. And besides, he felt some kinship with her, both of them out of their depths – she far more than him. At least he knew something of the High Clan, even something of the world. 

He slid a glance to Dominic, who nodded slightly. 

"Luc Malfoy and Caine are half-brothers," he murmured softly. 

She blinked.

Dominic slid a glance towards the subject of their conversation, who was talking with his brother over toast and orange juice. He dropped his voice before speaking.

"His father, Marcus Malfoy, had an affair with seventeen year old Anne de Sauvigny," he raised an eyebrow, "who, unexpectedly, became pregnant quite against her will………"

Michel nodded in agreement. "She dropped Luc on the doorstep of the Malfoy townhouse immediately after his birth, and then married Aethan de Sauvigny as soon as she could………"

Dominic smiled thinly. "Caine was born just over nine months later."

Kate's eyes, narrowed in almost feline calculation, slid towards Luc and then moved over to Caine, comparing the two half brothers, analyzing what must be incredibly tangled emotional currents………looking back towards Luc again, she encountered his gaze and almost forgot to breathe as she felt the power of those silver, all too intelligent eyes.

Beside her, Dominic tensed slowly. "Uh-oh………"

Still holding Luc's gaze, half challenging, half hypnotized like a rabbit caught in a spotlight, she spoke quietly. "What?"

"We've been caught gossiping about him………now we're in for it." He sounded more amused than upset; looking straight into Luc's eyes, she wasn't quite sure that he should be taking it so lightly. 

There was real power in those eyes; off balance and isolated as Dominic was, far away from his Gryffindoric friends, Kate wondered just what would happen to him if Luc decided to act.

Silver amusement glimmered – her thoughts must have shown on her face. Cursing, she resolved to learn, straight away, just how to hide her thoughts, how to hide her reactions and her fears and her ignorance………

Languidly, almost elegantly, Luc rose from his seat and made his way over.

She could feel Dominic and Michel's light apprehension, half covered by bravado, increase as he came closer.

As he reached them, he smiled a little blandly and said, "Good morning Michel, Dominic………" all the while still holding her gaze, seeming to challenge her to look as long as she could.

Michel and Dominic mumbled something, all too conscious that Luc wasn't paying any attention to them at all. 

"And Miss………" he raised an eyebrow. 

She opened her mouth, but couldn't find a thing to say. "Er………Kate," she said, holding out a hand. "Kate Evans."

For the first time, he dropped his gaze and looked expressionlessly at her outstretched hand. Slowly, he raised his eyes back to hers, deliberately taking his time, until he met her eyes again, his slightly sardonic and more than amused. 

"Don't ever offer to shake hands," he murmured softly. 

She blinked. "Oh………?"

He put his hands out, elegant, aristocratic hands, white and languid, with a hidden, tensile strength, and folded her own hand away. "Shaking hands," he explained slowly, reasonably, "is an entirely middle class custom. Don't ever offer to shake hands with the High Clan."

She blinked again. "Oh." Then, in a very intelligent move she would curse herself for later, she said, "High Clan?"

She could all but see Dominic and Michel wince, hear the muffled tittering from some of the first year girls she had met last night – but Luc didn't react. His eyebrow may have risen a little, his eyes may have narrowed a little in amusement. But there was nothing overt.

Kate closed her eyes and prayed for the earth to open and swallow her up. What had she just done………?

He sighed soundlessly and drew her away from the main table. "My dear Kate," he said flatly. "You're a muggleborn, aren't you." 

She didn't say anything, he already knew it. She felt a tide of shame rise over her, shame at her birth, at her ignorance………she knew she should be angry, but she couldn't manage the energy. She knew that she was going to be torn apart.

He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed tightly. "Listen to me," he whispered intently. "I don't know what you're doing in Slytherin, but I do know that the way you're going, you won't survive a full year………"

She pulled away angrily, scowling at him. "That's hardly my fault, is it?"

He only looked at her. "No, it's not your fault – but that's beside the point. You don't know anything about this House or its ways, and you will be eaten alive."

"Are you offering to teach me?" she flung defiantly at him, hating him for his unforgiving truths.

He stopped and looked at her for a few heartbeats, his eyes filled with a truly unreadable expression. "Perhaps I am………" he murmured in a strange tone. 

She gaped. "What?"

He smiled thinly. "I am offering to teach you, Kate. Everything you should know, everything you must know………everything you need to know."

Her eyes searched his for any clue of what he was thinking. "Why?" she asked bluntly. She was too disconcerted to play games.

The strange smile came again. "Perhaps I have a newfound desire to play Pygmalion………"

She looked at him skeptically.

"And perhaps………just perhaps, there might be some benefit to it. For each of us."

At any other time, she would have left it at that and been all too happy to accept his offer. But she was too discomposed, too unsettled, and she wanted to speak plainly, to hear plain truth, for the first time in this alien House she had been placed in. "What kind of benefit?"

She thought he winced. "For you? A protector, and a teacher. Under my protection, no one will dare harm you. And I will teach you everything you need to know, as I said."

"And what do you get out of it?"

"Everything you are, and everything you can be." She drew in a shocked breath, but he went on. "Complete loyalty………and complete truthfulness. Complete access to what I suspect will become a very, very astute and analytical intellect………" He lowered his voice even further, his eyes became very intense. "I'm sure that either Michel or Dominic has told you of my heritage and my ambitions………"

They hadn't actually, but she had picked them up nonetheless. It was quite obvious, he had made no secret of his desire to become tai-pan one day. She nodded.

"If I take you under my protection, I want you to use everything you have to help me get to the tai-pan's seat."

She raised her wide green eyes to his, reading the strength and the determination, reading the truth of his words and the sincerity of his offer. 

This was what she had been planning to acquire, wasn't it? What she already knew she needed to survive? Then why, as she nodded her agreement to his offer, did she feel as if she had just sold her soul to the devil?

Complete and utter loyalty. 

Everything you are, and everything you can be. 

In return for the protection she needed so badly, and the knowledge she needed just as much. She couldn't turn down a chance to gain them, no matter what he asked in return. There was no point in cutting off her nose………

But still, seeing the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, she felt a flutter of disquiet.

**************************************************

All of Slytherin nodded knowingly when the mudblood, Kate Evans, returned to the table and a place was made for her next to Luc Malfoy. 

So. 

She had just been claimed.

They would work that into their plans………

Now the only remaining wild cards were the two de Sauvigny cousins. Would Luc claim them, or would he let them sink?

They had thought that he would make a decision just before, but he had showed no sign of any rejection or acceptance; Dominic and Michel were still in limbo, and were still open to any other offers that may be made to them. 

But any other offers would be withheld until Luc made his claim – it was prudent to wait and see how the Malfoy jumped first before making any plans. 

Unacknowledged blood kin, previously of an entirely different House and upbringing – no one really knew which way Luc would react. They were blood of his blood, yes, but his mother had rejected him, and they had, only yesterday, been fawning over Caine de Sauvigny, Luc's greatest rival………

It was a very interesting situation, one that they would watch with great interest.

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So, tell me what you think and what you liked. I'll be grateful, I swear. Next chapter, Kate learns something of Slytherin.


	6. The Price of Protection

Hello all – another chapter for this story. Luc introduces Kate to Slytherin, and she realizes a little of what his protection will cost. Hints and shadows of trouble coming soon.  Hope you enjoy. 

Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. Don't sue me.

CHAPTER 6 – THE PRICE OF PROTECTION

"What are you doing with the mudblood girl, Luc?" Lucius spoke softly, under his breath so the other boys in their dorm wouldn't hear – but that disguise the disapproval in his words. Or the curiosity. Luc never did anything without a dozen different reasons, and Lucius knew that very well. 

_"There's something about her, Lucius…something that could burn, given a chance…"_

_"And you intend to give her that chance."_

_Luc made an amused noise deep in his throat. "And to take full advantage of whatever she becomes…"_

_"Complete loyalty?" His voice was wry. _

_White teeth flashed in the darkness. "It only seems fair…"_

********************************************* 

Looking through his lashes at his newest protégé, Luc wondered just what had prompted the Hat to sort her into Slytherin. She was a typical muggleborn witch, and from the way he had watched her giggling with her sister as she first arrived last night, he had predicted she would go straight to Gryffindor. But after the Hat's shocking announcement, he had taken notice, trying to figure out just what Slytherin characteristics she did have.

When they had first locked eyes…

He had seen determination. Determination, and a very real strength of will, not simple stubbornness; and a fierce pride that would not let her show fear or any kind of reaction to the taunts that had started immediately after she sat down at the table. And, above all, he had seen intelligence. Instinctive insight, understanding….

And the beginnings of an ambition that somehow, in some way, included himself. 

He had been intrigued. 

Fascinated. 

And caught by the sheer potential of what she could become, given the right guidance. Provided she was steered in the right direction – oh no, he wouldn't be able to control her forever, but if he could secure her voluntary and complete gratitude and cooperation…

She would serve him willingly, give him everything she had, and give it freely and unconditionally, along with her loyalty.

And what if she was a mudblood? It would only tie her more securely to him, for protection, for the acceptance she would find in him, for the relief of his lack of prejudice. It was a mutually beneficial trade – she had intimate knowledge of a world he could only dream of, a world completely alien to his own; and he held the same knowledge of the wizarding world and the High Clan. She had the makings of one of the shrewdest analysts of the Game he had ever known, and he had the necessary clout to ensure she stayed alive to realize her potential. 

She would become something entirely different from what she would have been in her Muggle life, even from what she would have become in Gryffindor, and in the shaping of her, he would control and guide what she would become, and he would be the one to benefit from it…

And what did her blood matter, when compared to that?

It wasn't like he was going to marry her.

Oh, there were no real, outward, physical differences between purebred wizards and mudbloods. They were both human, both mortal, had the same features and flaws – they could even interbreed and produce viable offspring. The real differences were subtler, even more damning than mere physical makeup.

High Clan wizards were of a different blood type all of their own. Those of the original Thirteen, descended from Brandon Malfoy and his followers, who had all come from a strange land across the sea, tended to have more angular, beautiful features, slightly slanted eyes, and to breed true, generation after generation, to a certain physical characteristic – Malfoy were all fair-haired and silver eyed; when they used their unique inborn wandless magic, their _ardeur, _which was essentially sex magic, their skin glowed slightly and their eyes grew almost luminous.

And that was one of the few signs of their own difference from the normal wizards of Britain – their own slightly different magic, slightly different mentality, slightly different heritage…

And because they did share so much, especially their worldviews, and because Salazar Slytherin himself had been High Clan, of bastard blood, High Clan children were almost always sorted into Slytherin, with the exception of a children of the younger, more innocent Clans such as the de Sauvigny, who would, every so often, manifest other traits that would send them elsewhere, usually to Gryffindor, which was essentially a mirror image of Slytherin.

But he had never before heard of a complete mudblood sorted into Slytherin.

Now, as he prepared to introduce her and publicly speak his claim to her, he would see just how much credit the Malfoy name had in their world…

************************************************************ 

The Slytherin common room was not a particularly welcoming place – apart from the forest green, silver and black colour scheme (a little depressing, when the room itself was deep in the dungeons), the whole atmosphere was aristocratic, formal, and more than a little chilly. Rich wall coverings and thick, plush Persian rugs, antique furniture, esoteric books and scrolls scattered orderly here and there…and everywhere, the overwhelming evidence of old money and power and even older traditions, old and tangled alliances and feuds, and above all, the sense of the unspoken, invisible undercurrents of the Game.

She had fallen in love with it on sight. It was just so…exotic. So different to anything she had ever known before – and she was intrigued by it, although she knew there was something very real, something that could be extremely dangerous, beneath the elegant, smooth façade.

Hence the alacrity with which she had accepted Luc Malfoy's offer. 

Everything she was, and everything she could be. Complete loyalty. And in return, she would get – what? A protector. A teacher. A companion – although she hardly lacked for friends; she had her sister Lily, and she had lots of friends at her old school…

But Lily was in Gryffindor, now, and her old friends were even farther away, in the muggle world. She was a Slytherin, had been thrown in at the deep end, in with the High Clan, who all knew each other, whose parents all knew each other, whose children would all know each other, world without end…

She would need someone to talk to. She could not spend all seven years here as a loner – even if she had had the temperament for it, which she didn't, she couldn't survive the undercurrents without at least some sort of allies to back her up, to back up her threat and her standing.

But still, complete loyalty? That seemed a bit…mediaeval…

Ah, well. There didn't seem to be anyone else willing to offer her protection. She would take whatever she could get. She didn't want to endure another night at the mercy of those Slytherin bitches, who were just as dangerous as their male counterparts, and far, far more vicious.

Entering behind Luc, after dinner in the Great Hall (and that had been an interesting – she had been far too nervous and dismayed to take much notice of it last night) she looked around to see the whole of the first year Slytherins gathered together near the fireplace, all watching them come in – examining her with disguised curiosity, and open calculation.

They had seen Luc claim her, this morning – now they would wait to see in what way.

There were eight boys in the first year, not including Luc – the blonde haired boy whose features mirrored Luc's must be his legitimate brother Lucius, the Malfoy Heir; he looked like a smooth predator, in the same way as Luc did, but then that was hardly a surprise – they would have had all the same tutors and lessons, surely? They were eerily alike, the only difference she could see, on first impression, was that Lucius was more…utterly confident of his place, of his position. 

With Luc's hand on her shoulder, he introduced her to Lucius, who was the highest ranked among them, first. "Lucius, this is Kate. She's mine." She would have blinked in surprise, in outrage, if the hand on her shoulder hadn't tightened in warning. Play along, it said – so she gritted her teeth and looked straightly at Lucius. Luc had told her not to smile, but to look properly solemn – he also said that if Lucius rejected her, not even his credit could protect her.

She stood still and held Lucius' silver, far too perceptive gaze for what seemed like an eternity, her heart beating double time in the stretched silence – and then, finally, he nodded, and said, "Hello Kate. Welcome to Slytherin." 

He didn't offer to shake her hand – Luc had said this would happen. Once she was acknowledged as his, no other High Clan scion would touch her without his permission, unless they wished to challenge him and through him House Malfoy.

Luc introduced the awkward, pale black haired boy with the piercing black eyes as Severus Snape – he was sitting with Lucius, so they must be allied in some way, but it was an odd alliance where both Snape and Lucius tried not to look at each other, or to acknowledge the other's presence. There was something uneasy there, something below the surface…

Snape sneered at her with black, insolent eyes – but he would not reject what his nominal patron Lucius had accepted, so he said nothing. He did not want to get on the Malfoy's bad side. For the first time, the implications of her bargain came home to her. No one would touch her, raise a hand against her, because they did not want to cross House Malfoy. But that didn't mean that those who wished to challenge the Malfoy, or to cause them some sort of harm, or even to score some sort of point in a bizarre, twisted game, would not harm her…

Hadn't she said that there was something dark beneath Slytherin's surface?

The other white haired boy, with his sharp green eyes and thin smile, was Rayden Lestrange, cynical and sardonic, with a mocking smile. He nodded negligently at her, his green eyes assessing her thoroughly, weighing her up in a quick, comprehensive glance. His cousin Shan was blonder, softer…warmer. His quick smile was genuine, but his eyes were no less perceptive. And, unofficially connected to the two of them, was dark haired, lazy-eyed Brandon Avery, who appeared to be so languid and world-weary, it was hard to believe her first impression of smooth, velvet menace. He looked at her through heavily lidded eyes and lifted a white, elegant hand in acknowledgement.

The venomous looks he and Snape exchanged dispelled any impression of softness she might ever have received.

Dirk Courtney, insolent, mocking and curiously innocent, in some ways, was accepted as Luc's companion – he looked at her with dark eyes, as if warning her to stay away from Luc, who should be his alone. She wondered if she would have trouble there, and just what lay between them that Dirk felt he had the right to jealousy…

And Dominic and Michel de Sauvigny sat on their own, apart from the others, as if they needed to protect themselves from the rest. They watched Luc with reluctant fascination, as if he were a dangerous predator in their world that was rapidly spinning out of control…and, conversely, as if he were the only thing that could save them from the darkness.

They, alone out of the Slytherin boys, were truly on their own. If Luc chose not to acknowledge them…unless they learned something of how to survive in this world, unless they shed their notions of Gryffindoric fair play, they would only be slightly safer than she had been. And that wasn't saying much.

But Luc was not altruistic enough to offer his protection without a promise of something in return. So what could they possibly offer him that would be payment enough for Malfoy protection?

She thought she knew.

And she wondered at the complexity of a mind that could formulate such long-term plans at this age…

************************************************

But not even Luc, the skilled player that he was, master player that he would one day become, could have foreseen the whole picture and the way that it would unfold. 

The High Clan had stood together for centuries against any outside threats, against anything and anyone who had threatened them, and they had prevailed. The Houses had all shared different alliances, different blood, different agendas, but one common thread united them all. 

They were High Clan.

But very, very soon, the world as they knew it would change forever…

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Read and Review, please. Tell me what you think.


	7. Kate

It's been a very, very long time since I updated this, and it'll probably be a long time before I update it again. My apologies. If anyone really, desperately wants to know what happens, go read "the Greater Good, or the Lesser Evil". 

Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. Don't sue me. 

Chapter 7

Marcus Malfoy looked down at the missive in his hand, sealed with a distinctive, malevolent green seal, in distinct distaste and disdain. They were growing bolder, more insistent in their offers, in their temptations, in their…requests that he join them and become part of the great Cause. 

The Crusade, some might say… both sides, unofficial and as yet fully undefined as they were, were courting him, but both sides believed in their way, in the rightness of their cause, and sought to convert him as if he were an infidel, with a soul that would be saved – one way or the other – whether he liked it or not.

He was not a trophy to be flaunted and thrown in others' faces. His loyalty and support was not a prize that could be won by the strongest, most cunning or most ruthless opponent, and the Malfoy were not a symbol to be used as propaganda and rhetoric. 

By the gods, his children were not pawns, to be callously used by the grand puppet masters playing this Game…

************************************** 

Child of a middle-class, muggle upbringing, Kate had never, ever seen anything like Hogwarts before. She had never seen anything like the whole wizarding world before, and despite the rather shadowed impression she had received from her first days in Slytherin, she was enchanted. 

Shifting staircases, talking portraits, animated suits of armour, spells and charms and hexes and magic, most of all magic, just as she had always dreamed of encountering; something more than the mundane, something…something wonderful that made life seem more worth living. She would probably still be going about with a dazed, idiotic smile like she had seen on some of the other mugg- mudblood children, even after six months, but she knew that Luc would have thought it weak and foolish. 

And if she had learned one thing in these first few days, it was to do avoid everything that would lead to the impression of weakness, foolishness, strangeness, or anything that reminded anyone that she was a mudblood, and welcome only on sufferance. Life – magic or no magic – was simply not worth living in Slytherin, if they remembered and tried to teach her that she was not, truly, one of 'them'. So a little discretion was called for, a little play-acting, perhaps a little hypocrisy… 

There were times when she thought of it as a betrayal of everything she had ever known and loved before coming to Hogwarts. She had erased every possible indication that she was not a pureblood, eradicated every thing that could connect her to the muggle world – including trying to change her accent and manner, to speak as they did, in their cool, disinterested tones, and their smooth, cultured accents.

She had even – and this was perhaps the most shameful thing of all – repudiated her sister, ignoring her in the hallways and in the classrooms…

Sweet, stubborn Lily who still, after nearly half a year, did not accept that Kate was trying to deny her and tried to talk to her, to get through to her and ask what was wrong. She was a perfect example of a Gryffindor, Luc had once said dryly. Brave, stubborn, headstrong and impetuous, with all the subtlety of a charging bull…

That had been after their first meeting, during the first week of school. It had been lunchtime, and Luc, Lucius and Snape – and Kate herself, tagging along as always – had been seated in a little group on a sunny little patch of grass, discussing something lazily; it could have been lessons, or professors, or the latest Slytherin gossip, she couldn't remember. It hadn't mattered. Then a shadow had fallen across them, and they had looked up – three of the most influential first year Slytherins, to see the trio who had already made a name for themselves as troublemakers. 

Potter, and Black, and Lupin – no Pettigrew, as of yet – with Lily standing in the background, watching Kate strangely, just as Kate herself sat, unheeded, behind the three Slytherins. While the two groups of boys had faced off, Lily had walked over to Kate and asked how she was doing, and what she thought of Hogwarts and the whole new world that had opened up to them. 

With a worried look over her shoulder, Kate had seen that Luc seemed to be fully occupied. So she had smiled, and said, "Hogwarts is wonderful, but Slytherin," she raised an eyebrow, "is not the best of places to be a muggleborn…"

Lily had laughed, not seeing the seriousness behind the light words. "Oh, Kate, Gryffindor is so much fun – you should have been sorted in with us, instead of into Slytherin. It would be amazing to be together…" 

Kate grinned, shrugged. "Oh, well, I didn't ask to be sorted into Slytherin. Have they been feeding you the anti-Slytherin rhetoric, yet? All Slytherins are evil, manipulative and untrustworthy?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I've heard it all. They weren't pleased when I told them I had a twin in Slytherin, you know. And nor was I pleased when they wouldn't apologise…"

Kate snorted. "I suppose they want us to hate each other?" She asked, curious, because she had indeed been told that a mudblood sister in Gryffindor was not acceptable. She didn't know what she was supposed to do about it, although she was beginning to get a very good idea…

Lily looked uncharacteristically solemn, her eyes serious as she held Kate's hand and looked searchingly into her eyes. Perhaps she had heard the seriousness under the levity after all. "I could never hate you, Kate, and I never will, no matter what prejudice and rivalry says…"

At that moment, she had looked away from Lily's eyes and straight into Luc's, and the shadows in his gaze, the hidden depths and the tension had sent a chill down her spine… They had had a little talk, later on, when they were in private; a small talk about appearances, and pretence, and of sacrifice and necessity. And after that, she had begun to sever the lifelong bond that she had always shared with Lily.

Of course Lily had written home to their parents, complaining of the odd change that Kate had undergone, and of course their parents had written to Kate, demanding to know what was going on and was she so sure that her friends were good influences on her? Even now, Kate could only shake her head. Of course her 'friends' were not good influences, as her parents would see it. Or even her teachers – there had been some subtle, discreet mention of an attempted re-sorting, to see whether the Hat had indeed got it right the first time. But word of the attempt got out, as it inevitably did, to the Slytherins – and, most dangerous of all, to Luc, who had not been pleased at all. 

Not at all – and that had been puzzling, really. Why did he care? If she were sorted into another House, he could forget about her, forget about defending her, or the wearing task of turning her into a High Clan scion, or at least a Slytherin. But he had been absolutely furious, as if she had tried to betray him personally. That had been the first true taste she had ever had of his temper, and of his possessiveness.

Bastard that he was, everything usually went to Lucius, the first, legitimate son, the Heir. So what Luc did have, he held on to – she had known that, but had ignored it, dismissing it as unimportant, insignificant. Intellectual, academic knowledge was never as good as first hand, practical experience… 

No further mention, from her at least, was ever made about a re-sorting. 

But even so, Kate's friends – James Potter, earnest and idealistic, and Sirius Black, hot-headed and always ready for mischief, especially against his hated, aristocratic cousins – still tried to force her to talk to Lily, still asked her what she thought she was doing, and still scorned her for her apparent callousness. Lupin at least seemed to understand something of what she was going through – but Lupin's words didn't seem to carry much weight with them, at least not in this. 

Because she wasn't a Slytherin, so of course she wouldn't think like one. Of course the ancient hatred of muggles and mudbloods didn't make her life hell in Slytherin, and of course she was only ignoring Lily because she was a stuck-up, arrogant snob who thought she was too good for her old friends and her old life.

But what could they know of the separation she was undergoing, of the chilling isolation she felt as the only mudblood in Slytherin, as the outsider, with only Luc to defend her? She couldn't talk to Lily and she had no other friends, and so she was coming, more and more, to be dependent on Luc for everything…

It was almost as if he was training her, if that was possible of an eleven year old boy. Turning her into a person – or even a tool – who would answer to no one but him, would be loyal to no one but him; oh, she interacted with the other Slytherins, but even that was on the understanding that she belonged to Luc, and no one else there was willing to challenge his claim. She wasn't at all sure that this was a good thing, or that theirs was a healthy relationship at all, but she was in too deep now, and there was no real way to back out of it, unless she severed all ties to Hogwarts completely and went back to the muggle world – and she didn't want to lose this new world she had found, even if she had to be Luc Malfoy's mudblood to survive in it. 

But there were compensations. After coming to grips with life in Slytherin, after prolonged exposure to Slytherin culture, thoughts and ideals, with no other companions or teachers in the ways of the wizarding world, she had come to think and act, in some superficial ways, as a High Clan Slytherin. And there was a cold beauty, an elegance, in the centuries old traditions she was learning, in the way of life she was slowly becoming absorbed into, and in the people who were slowly, reluctantly, beginning to accept her.

Through sheer chance, fate in the form of the Sorting Hat had given Kate the chance to become not just Slytherin, but High Clan. In the reflection of Luc's fleeting true smiles and his wry laughter, in Snape's rare flashes of humour and Lucius' love and care for his younger brother, in Rayden's disguised affection for his cousin and Shan's brilliant grin, in all the bright, rarely seen humanity of Slytherin House – yes, even in the girls who would stop at nothing to break her – she saw that not all was dark, or evil, or corrupted as the Gryffindors said. 

And she didn't think she would change that even if she could. If Dumbledore were to give her another chance to be sorted into Gryffindor – much chance she would have now, after such exposure to Slytherin – she didn't think that she would take it anymore. Life may not be perfect, but there was enough light and laughter to make it good.

*********************************************** 

Watching the Slytherin table at dinner, Dumbledore sighed quietly. There they were, the aristocrats of the wizarding world, most of them High Clan, rich and influential, with networks of contacts and influence all over Britain and Europe. He knew their fathers and mothers were being recruited, courted and flattered and pursued by the man who had once been Tom Riddle, and now called himself Lord Voldemort. He knew that some of them had accepted Voldemort's offer, and some of them had not, and would not – but what he didn't know was the complete extent of the corruption, or of those who stood against it. 

It was just too early to tell, and the stories of a Dark Lord were still hesitant, still unformed rumours, much to his dismay – he would much rather know just exactly what he was dealing with. But the nature of wizarding society was still conducive to secret plots and rebellions, unlike the more regulated muggle society…

His eye travelled to the group of first years, down to the two Malfoy brothers, sons of perhaps the most influential figure in Slytherin society. Which way would Marcus Malfoy jump? Which way would his sons jump? He had been watching them for a while now, aware of the slight anomalies in their group – their court was made up of all the usual suspects, Avery and Lestrange and Rosier and Courtney and Andahni, but also Snape – and wasn't that interesting – and the two displaced de Sauvigny, Luc's maternal cousins…

And there. The real odd one out, and not just because she was a girl. Katherine Evans, who had no influential relatives, no wealth or lineage or anything at all to recommend her – Kate Evans the muggle born, but who was firmly at Luc Malfoy's side. That oddity was what made Dumbledore hesitate about Luc. Everything he had seen of the boy indicated ruthless, amoral ambition and a potential for terrifying cold-bloodedness – except for his acceptance of Kate. 

There had to be something else, something more to him. 

Perhaps, if he cared for something more than himself and his ambition, he might resist the easy way to power…?

Dumbledore could only wait, watch, and find out what would happen.

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	8. Comparisons and Contrasts

A/N – Every now and then, a little inspiration for this story strikes me and I get the (guilty?) urge to continue it. Hence this chapter.

Disclaimer – Harry Potter and everything associated with him belongs to J K Rowling, not me. Don't sue me. I have made up the names of Lily's parents.

Chapter 8 – Comparisons 

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Platform 9 and ¾, delivering its students safely into the embrace of their parents, or their guardians, or whoever had been designated to pick them up as they returned after their first year from Hogwarts. Kate, who had looked forward to seeing her parents once more – although she had been careful to keep that feeling to herself – found herself watching the others in their little group with puzzled incomprehension. 

They seemed in no hurry to go home. 

Snape, in particular, had become silent as they approached the station, lost in introspection and his own brooding thoughts. Luc had not told her much of Severus' situation, but she had been able to infer some of it; enough to make her relieved that she was not in his position. Augustus Snape sounded like a thoroughly unpleasant man.

The others – Avery, Lestrange, Andahni and Courtney – seemed to have better relationships with their families (better being a relative term) but treated the thought of returning home quite casually, as if it was something to be endured rather than enjoyed. From what she could see, home life was no better and no worse than life at school…

Kate found that sad, but would never dare say so. Her own parents were wonderful people, and she loved her family dearly – yes, even Petunia, who could sometimes be difficult – although there might be some trouble if her parents persisted in thinking that she had fallen in with a group who would lead her astray. But she couldn't ever imagine having the kind of cool, detached relationship with them that the others did – it was just too…alien to her way of thinking.

Strangely enough, the brothers Malfoy were also looking forward to meeting their father – if not Lady Malfoy – and returning to their estate in Wales. But then she had long since given up trying to analyse any of her new – friends? acquaintances? – by using her normal standards. If there was one thing she had learned in her first year at Hogwarts, and in Slytherin, it was that people – and things – were very, very rarely as they first appeared to be. Surface appearance was deceiving, and words – especially words – were so easily manipulated as to be worth absolutely nothing. 

It was not – by any measure – a nice, comfortable way of life. No wonder they were all so cynical. 

************************** 

Lily stepped off the train, laughing at Sirius' antics, and James' and Remus' reactions to him. She would miss them, but she couldn't deny that she was looking forward to going home. As fascinating and intriguing as the past year had been, there was a part of her that just wanted things to be _normal _again – she and Kate together, as they had always been, and as she had imagined they always would be.

They were twins, weren't they? They had always shared and done everything together – until she had been sorted into Gryffindor, and Kate into Slytherin. And then things had begun to change, and not for the better. Kate had withdrawn into the darkness of Slytherin and the mysteries of the High Clan – why had they accepted her, when she was a Muggleborn? Didn't they prefer purebloods? – and Lily herself had become more outspoken, more confident, and, quite frankly, louder.

She supposed they had drifted away from each other, despite their mutual promises. Hopefully the summer holidays would allow them to renew their bond – she would have sworn, before they had started at Hogwarts, that they were so close to each other that nothing and no one could ever tear them apart… 

Through the crowd, she saw her sister's dark hair, standing within the circle that included Lucius Malfoy's distinctive white hair. Waving goodbye to her three friends, she made her way through the crowd of milling students and parents, heading straight for Kate. Luc Malfoy saw her coming first, and turned to say something to the others – as she drew closer, she found herself on the receiving end of a number of thoughtful, inscrutable gazes, including Kate's. 

"Hello Lily," Kate said, sounding like every other pureblooded Slytherin aristocrat at Hogwarts. Once again, Lily felt the strange sense of disorientation, as if she was looking into a mirror at a reflection she had known all her life, but which had suddenly shifted.  

She breathed deeply, wishing suddenly for Sirius' brash confidence, or Remus' quiet courage. Those Slytherin eyes intimidated her, but she could not back down now, not in public, not when she had come to take her sister away from these people. "Kate," she replied. Suddenly she could not think of what to say. "Are you ready to go?" 

When Lucius Malfoy looked at her, his brows raised quizzically, she lifted her chin defiantly, squaring her shoulders. She was Kate's elder sister – by all of forty minutes – and she had a responsibility to look after her. But the Slytherins closed ranks about Kate, a subtle movement, an inward step, and dark haired Luc put a very unsubtle hand on her shoulder.

"Weren't you waiting for your parents?" Shan Andahni asked, all innocence. "I don't see them here…"

"No," Lily said grimly, "we were to wait for them on the muggle platform." 

It was a weak excuse, and they all knew it. She looked at Kate, her eyes unconsciously imploring, but her sister would not meet her eyes. There was an awkward stretch of silence, a feel of rushing towards something inevitable and unbearable, and then Brandon Avery deflected it, laughing quietly in his lazy, languid manner. "Then perhaps we could come with you, Evans. I have never met a real muggle…"

************************* 

Richard and Elizabeth Evans, both of them completely and utterly conventional with no history of anything at all shady in their backgrounds, had been considerably surprised when they received the first Owl that informed them their two youngest daughters were witches. Disinclined to believe anything so absolutely ridiculous, they had ignored it – but then the next one had come, and suddenly it hadn't seemed like such a joke, at all… 

Kate and Lily had been delighted to hear of their 'special abilities', as they had been encouraged to think of their magic, but Richard and Elizabeth – and Petunia, their eldest child – had not been so blasé. For Kate and Lily's sake, they had made the best of things, but there had been a definite feeling of unease at so much strangeness suddenly intruding into their nice, normal lives – and when Lily had written home, saying that Kate had fallen into bad company, their forebodings had been confirmed. 

They had allowed the girls one year at this Hogwarts – it remained to be seen whether they would return for the second. When they were all back at home, back in the real world instead of the fantastic fairytale land both Lily and Kate had described, there would be a serious discussion about their future, and what they really wanted to do with their lives…

************************** 

Luc saw them first.

Pureblooded product of the wizarding world, and therefore accustomed to seeing both men and women in robes, he was a little dazzled by all the strange clothes worn by the young muggles swarming so casually around the platform. Of course, he was not entirely ignorant of muggle clothing, having glimpsed it occasionally in Diagon Alley – but this was another thing entirely. 

It was 1972, and though he did not know it, the muggle world was in upheaval: vibrant, daring, entirely outrageous, it was everything that his own world – and the High Clan in particular – was not. It was fascinating – here, in full, was everything that had drawn him to Kate in the first place. 

The individuality. The innocence. 

And, by all the Gods, the ingenuity…

Of course, not all muggles were of Kate's calibre. Take these two middle-aged adults – man and wife – walking towards them: purely conventional clothing, middle class written all over them; comfortable, complacent and not a jot of real ambition to be found. 

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose…* 

They could be any number of reasonably well off wizarding couples, with children at Hogwarts in either Hufflepuff or Gryffindor or sometimes Ravenclaw, the father with in a comfortable, mid-level administrative spot in the Ministry or the public service or a reputable firm, the mother looking after the family or serving on committees of some sort, or even with a little job of her own…

It was hard to imagine that these were Kate's parents. They were so… ordinary, so mediocre. 

And if there was one thing that Luc despised, it was mediocrity. 

Snape, too, had seen them. Less discreet, or perhaps less inclined to hide his disapproval, he was watching their approach with critical eyes. Catching onto his mood, the others quickly followed his gaze to see what had so offended his sensibilities, and Kate – impulsive, now, or perhaps more courageous – moved forward with her sister to welcome her parents with what appeared to be a genuinely warm hug. 

For the next three months, Kate would be free of his influence. How much of his teaching would she retain, once she was back in her old world, living her old life? What other influences and events would she encounter, without him to supervise her education?

What if she returned to Hogwarts irrevocably changed? All his work would be undone…

****************************** 

Whatever their limitations – if, indeed, contentment with their lot and a lack of driving ambition were limitations – Kate loved her parents. They had always been supportive of anything Petunia, Kate and Lily had wished to do and become, had happily paid for music lessons, and for memberships in the local sports clubs – they had even overcome their incredulity and unease about Hogwarts and had managed to smile as Kate and Lily were whisked away in the Hogwarts Express, and she loved them for it.

She would not have disappointed them for the world. 

But as soon as her parents came close enough that she could see the expressions on their faces, she knew, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that there was something wrong… _Damn _Lily, and her interfering letters. Couldn't she have kept quiet? 

Now they would have to fight to be allowed to go back to Hogwarts next year…

******************************* 

Their daughters were standing with a group of young boys, watching them approach. Or rather, the boys were standing around Kate, and Lily looked as though she were trying to stand with Kate but not with the boys. An interesting study in body language, and had Richard and Elizabeth been more like the High Clan they had no idea existed, they would have greatly appreciated the scene.

Unfortunately – or perhaps not – they were simple, uncomplicated people; all they saw were Kate and her school-friends of whom they had heard so much. 

Lily came forward to meet them and give them a big hug, and Kate – after a glance at one of the boys that Richard did not miss – followed suit, a genuine smile on her face. So that much, at least, had not changed… but there had been that last questioning look.

The boys were watching them, now, their eyes clear and quizzical, and some latent, paternal protective instinct prompted Richard to say, "Introduce us to your friends, Kate dear. We've heard so much about them…"

******************************** 

*That great saying, "the more things change…"

No, that was not a cliffhanger. It was the culmination of the chapter, of the four different viewpoints expressed here, each and every one of them with different agendas. What I'd like to know (as a point of interest) is: where and with whom do your sympathies lie? The relationship between Kate and Luc can be viewed in many different ways, depending on your point of view. 


	9. Interlude

A/N – A very short chapter. It should sum up the holidays and their respective mindsets during that time, and lead us into the next part of the fic.

Disclaimer – I don't own any of the canon characters or concepts. Don't sue me.

Chapter 9 – Interlude.

Kate – Return to Innocence.

Life returned to normal on the holidays – or as normal as the world could be, now that Kate knew the world was far, far larger and far, far more wonderful than she had ever wished it could be. Her eyes had been opened to the wonder of her new world, and the old one seemed greyer, duller, and infinitely smaller. Oh, she knew that the wizarding world was not a perfect fairy tale land – how could she not, living in Slytherin? – but if her new, magical world was so much more wonderful than the mundane one, it seemed inevitable that it should it also be so much more dangerous.

No light without darkness…

She had heard the whispered discussions in the darkness, rumours of new shadows rising in the breeding grounds of old hatreds, prejudices and fears, and she had been afraid.

Because she was a mudblood surrounded by purebloods who were starting to whisper the name Lord Voldemort with reverence, awe, and most of all fear. Because the High Clans were beginning to eye each other askance, wondering who would come calling, anonymous in the dark night if they spoke out too openly, even in the company of friends…

But she was home, now. Back to the small, suburban house that she had lived in for all her life, and the small, suburban houses that surrounded it – Mr and Mrs. Anderson on the right, with their son John who was fourteen years old, and their daughter Jane who had been Kate's and Lily's best friend, at their former school. And on the left were the Atwell's: Mr. Atwell who played golf with her father and Mrs Atwell who was on the same charities and committees as her mother…

In such a world, how seriously could she take sinister, hooded Death Eaters and megalomaniac Dark wizards intent on eugenic genocide?

Slowly, she began to recover the confidence, the naïve sense of invulnerability that came of being twelve years old, with parents who loved her and sheltered her from anything even remotely dangerous. She began to regain some of her old spirit, some of the light-heartedness she had had to suppress among the more serious Slytherins.

Surely she must have been exaggerating the danger.

And even if she hadn't been, Luc would protect her. He had given his word.

* * *

Luc – The Realities of Life

The holidays had begun, and Luc and his brother left the strangeness of the world Outside and returned to their real world – the timeless, enchanted land where they had lived for their whole lives. The familiarity was reassuring – the quiet, contented peace of the fertile countryside, the solid, enduring bulk of the Castle, and the comforting masculine atmosphere of their father's study where they stood before his desk, waiting for him to acknowledge them.

Marcus Malfoy, unchanged and just as confidence-inspiring as ever, was writing a letter, the repetitive scritch-scritch of his quill the only sound in the silent room. It was not a tactic designed to intimidate them and stretch their nerves – although it could be used in such a manner – but evidence of their father's desire to finish his correspondence before turning to them. Work came first, and then he would give them his whole attention.

Finally he removed his signet ring, pressed it firmly into the puddle of hot wax to seal the letter, and then turned to his two sons standing before his desk, favouring them with a slight smile as he absently slipped the ring back onto his finger. "Well, my sons? How was your journey home?"

He came out from behind the desk, and urged them to sit on the dark leather chairs before the fireplace. Luc allowed that it had been a rather interesting journey, and that the servants sent to fetch them had been quite satisfactory. They spoke, then, on small, trivial matters of no real import, until their father came to the point of the interview.

"And what did you think of Hogwarts? Is it everything you thought it would be?"

Lucius smiled, genuinely pleased. It had indeed been a most enjoyable year. "Very well, Father. We had an amazing time – it was exactly as you described it to us."

But Marcus did not return the smile; instead he turned the full power of his heavy-lidded, fathomless gaze onto Luc. "'Mudbloods mingling with the High Clan?'" He repeated his words of earlier in the year rather sardonically. "I did tell you, did I not, to see and experience everything you could? And yet I don't believe that I expected you to go quite so far…"

Luc drew in a breath, but he did not look away from his father's eyes. "How did you find out? Who told you?" His tone was respectful – it did not border on the challenging, not yet. But someone had spoken out of turn, despite his explicit orders…

A languidly raised brow caused Luc to lower his eyes, and Lucius to shift uneasily. Marcus Malfoy did not tolerate insolence from his sons.

"It is of little consequence how I found out, Lucien," he said, after an uncomfortable pause. "Such an unusual occurrence cannot be kept silent for long. However, it is not my opinion of this matter that you should be worried about."

Luc frowned. "But I don't understand, sir. If I see fit to take a mudblood under my protection, why should anyone else's reaction matter?"

His father sighed. "Why did you adopt this girl, this…Kate?"

"Because she has an extraordinary, almost instinctive gift for analysis; with training, sir, she could be brilliant – dangerously brilliant. I thought it best to secure her loyalty and considerable skills for myself and the Malfoy, instead of leaving things to chance."

"And you didn't think of the possible consequences for yourself?" Marcus' tone was dry, detached – it showed no sign of whatever it is he was thinking.

"Consequences?" Once again, he was genuinely puzzled. "What consequences, sir? They won't dare challenge me, and if they do I'll crush them."

"She is a mudblood, Lucien. And all those who associate with mudbloods are tainted with the same brush. Yes, you are powerful, and yes, they don't dare challenge you now, but later on? When the anti-muggle and -mudblood sentiment has grown stronger, and the shadows darker? The whispers will start; they'll question your loyalties and sympathies…"

Lucius spoke up. "Surely it won't come to that, sir?"

"Oh, it will, Lucius. It will. And when it comes, she will be a liability – not just for you, Luc, but for us all, no matter which side we choose. If we oppose the Death Eaters, they will call us muggle lovers, blood traitors, and will hate us all the more for it; even if we join with them, they will challenge you to prove your loyalty by – at the very least – discarding her…"

Luc was very white, his face strained and intense. "That's not…" he broke off, struggled. "I don't…" Pinned by his father's eyes, he stopped. "It will not come to that. I won't let it…"

Marcus Malfoy watched his eleven year old son and wished he could spare his son the pain he could so clearly foresee. _That girl will drag him down with her – it would be better for all concerned if she were put out of the way…_

But Luc's next words made him freeze. "I gave my _word, _Father…!"

* * *

Thanks to all my reviewers and all the people who have stuck by this story. I think I can actually (finally) sense the ending…

Next chapter – fast forward to 7th year. Things have changed, and not for the better…


	10. Chapter 10

A/N – As I said, fast forward to seventh year. I am grimly determined to finish this story eventually.

Disclaimer – I don't own any of the canon characters or concepts. Don't sue me.

Chapter 10

1977

At the beginning of their seventh year, Luc and Lucius were accompanied to King's Cross Station by their father, who had grown inured to the thought of his son protecting and defending a mudblood. Since Luc had refused to give her up – quite vehemently – Marcus had resigned himself to the inevitable, and had set about controlling the damage that was sure to come, one day.

If his son thought this Katherine worth all the trouble and heartache…well. Trouble and heartache would come, whether because of this mudblood girl or not. He knew _them_ well enough for that…

So let the boy enjoy his illusions while he could.

Only Luc was not quite a boy anymore, and nor was Lucius. They were stuck in that awkward halfway stage between boyhood and adulthood, between childhood and full maturity, when such illusions become so very important to their sense of self-worth and their pride and honour, which was touchy now, as it would never be again, after they gained experience of the real world.

They were seventeen years old, and they had grown tall and strong – Lucius was taller than he by a few centimetres, now – and soon they would be young men, ready to take on the world: a world of suspicion and fear, of terror and violence, where his own power and influence was not enough to protect him against the mounting pressure – mounting swiftly and terribly – and so how would they fare, when he himself was on shaky ground?

Young and as yet unformed as they were, they were more flexible, more amenable to change – but that was exactly what he was afraid of.

Luc's head came up, as if he had just caught a scent on the wind – in the distance, he saw a muggle pair mount the platform, two girls trailing behind them. The dark haired girl turned in their direction, and Luc moved across to meet her, drawn irresistibly by her smile. Marcus frowned, just a little, and exchanged a glance with Lucius, who was looking quite sternly disapproving.

He dropped a hand on his son's shoulder, squeezing just a little. "Don't be so sour, Lucius bach. Let them have their happiness while they can."

"Why, Father?" Lucius turned to look at his face. "What have you seen?"

Marcus shrugged elegantly. "Nothing. But some things are too fragile for this imperfect world…"

* * *

For the very last time, Kate and Lily mounted the platform at King's Cross, escorted by their parents just as they had been the very first time. For some strange reason it pleased Kate's sense of symmetry – or perhaps it was just that she needed this very last farewell. She was no clairvoyant, but she knew better than to ignore any last chance to say goodbye. Far too many students had learned that too late…

A tickling on the edge of her senses – she looked up, to see Luc and his father and brother watching them. She smiled –

And he walked forward to meet her.

She watched his progress, this bastard prince, watched as he came straight towards her, making way for no one, automatically assuming that others would step aside for him. Seventeen years old, and even more – self-confident – than he had been at eleven. Hogwarts had been good for him, she realized, given him a chance to establish an identity beyond that of the Bastard Malfoy, to become more than he could ever have been had he stayed within his own Clan. Because like all Malfoy, he was ambitious…

And she? The Slytherins had accepted her, eventually. It had not been easy, of course, and just as Lily had feared, it had required a complete repression of her own personality. If she was to shelter behind Luc and the Malfoy, then she must act the part of a girl in need of protection – a girl _worth _protecting – and so Kate learned to camouflage herself. From the very first she had adopted Slytherin ways, but by now no one – not even the most hardcore traditionalists – could find any fault in her but her blood.

It was a pity that it was such an unforgivable sin.

In all other ways, she was beyond fault: she was well-behaved, and knew her place – which was firmly in Luc Malfoy's shadow and well out of sight – well enough to keep to it without complaint. She occupied a peculiar place in the Slytherin hierarchy; grudgingly accepted by the wider circle of the House so long as she kept her mouth shut and her eyes lowered, but in the smaller, more intimate circle of the Malfoy and their closest companions, she had a very different place…

Within their little circle of friends, Kate – the only girl, really, in an exclusively male club – was accepted, protected, even cosseted by the young men who, once they had discovered her intelligence, her strength, and her laughter, had come to treat her like a particularly beloved sister. And Kate – no fool – allowed it, pandered to it, actively adopted the role and the attitude that they responded to best.

She was Luc Malfoy's mudblood. And as long as there were clear boundaries and everyone knew and respected them, they all interacted smoothly…

Only with Luc were there no secrets, no masks.

The Bond had grown slowly, incrementally, almost creeping up on them both without their noticing it. By the time it had been established – born of shared companionship, friendship, trust and heightened mental proximity – they had already shared an odd intimacy. Protector and protected, mentor and student, and confessor and confidant… Years of forced companionship had engendered an understanding of the other that no one – not their parents, not their respective siblings – could match.

And yet there were secrets, unknown, unmapped parts of the soul – of course there were; they were from such different backgrounds – but surely that didn't matter, did it? Even such hardened cynics as they were brought to believe, with all their hearts, that it was possible, that a Malfoy could love and even marry a mudblood…

* * *

Looking back years later, Luc would wonder whether it would have endured, would have stood up against adversity – whether, in fact, it should have been formed at all.

Oh, but it had been sweet while it lasted…

* * *

Their meeting had not gone unnoticed; indeed, Severus Snape rather thought the whole platform had seen the way she had brought him so neatly to heel. A look, a smile, and Luc Malfoy obeys a mudblood's summons with alacrity – that was how it would be interpreted, and by far more malicious eyes than his.

Truly, he was fond of Kate. But what were mild affection and liking to the relentless pressure his father was bringing against him? Augustus Snape was neither a tolerant man, nor a patient one – unlike Marcus Malfoy, who was largely indifferent to them, he was fiercely anti-muggle, and his loyalty to the Dark Lord bordered on the fanatical. Fanatical enough to drag his only son into servitude with him – unconsciously, Severus' fingers pressed and rubbed against the numb spot on his left forearm, where he had been branded nearly two years before.

They knew, his companions in Slytherin. They all knew, and none of them mentioned it, partly because of his own fierce reserve, partly out of courtesy and a sincere desire not to know, not to be told. Perhaps if he could have talked about it, he would not have felt so isolated, but the atmosphere in their House, even in their charmed circle of friends was…cautious.

As well it should be – they all had something to lose.

Slowly, they gathered in one of the cabins near the front end of the train, one that they had claimed as their own for years now. Kate and the two Malfoy brothers had yet to arrive, and with the rest of the group – Lestrange and his cousin Andahni, Avery and Courtney – he took the chance to discuss the morning's happenings.

Courtney – poisonous, malicious Courtney – began. "I wonder that Marcus Malfoy doesn't put a stop to such recklessness." He was loyal to Luc, but it was Slytherin loyalty that only went so far…

Snape shrugged. "He has long been known for his tolerance. Even the Ministry acknowledges it." The words were neutral, but the tone was not.

"No one has ever called him a fool." Brandon Avery, when he chose to speak at all, spoke with quiet authority and perception. "And, but for Kate, no one has ever called Luc a fool either. If he believes he can protect her, then perhaps he can. And if his father allows it…"

"Yes, but at what price?" Courtney asked, perhaps a little fearful of losing his powerful protection. "She will drag them all down."

They loved her like a sister. But they were not fools, and they could not – would not – put the interests of the Malfoy before those of their own Houses.

"Perhaps he thinks it worth it. If he loves her…" Shan Andahni trailed off, remembering all the legends of fierce Malfoy lovers. The Malfoy were cursed with hot blood – it was one of the great contradictions of the High Clan that they counted among the coldest of the Houses.

Lestrange snorted with disgust. "Luc may count the world well lost for love, but I'm quite sure that Lucius and his father don't."

Of all those present, Snape was in the best position to comment on the Malfoy family. He laughed. "Oh, indeed they don't. But though they disapprove, they will not take any action in this matter – they will allow him to forge his own destiny, without interference…"

"Why?" Courtney asked – as they all asked. But it was not a simple question, and there were no simple answers.

There were no longer any simple answers left, in their world…

* * *

Lucius snatched the opportunity to talk to his brother in private.

"Do you remember, when we were younger, how we spoke of ruling the High Clan between us?" He slouched against the paneled walls of the corridor; his hands shoved in his pockets, and spoke casually, looking away.

Luc paused, taken aback, and looked at him in some surprise. And then he laughed. "Yes," he said in rueful amusement. "Yes, I do. With you as the Malfoy and I as the de Sauvigny, we could have dominated them all…"

"Could have?" Lucius asked. "Would have? Is it not so important to you anymore, then?"

Luc sighed, shoved his own hands in his pockets – an unconscious mirror of Lucius' attitude that made them look, suddenly, very much alike. "Perhaps the driving ambition has lost a little of its urgency…"

Lucius turned his head, sought and found Luc's eyes. "You've lost your focus."

Luc shrugged insolently. "I've found other priorities."

There were many answers to that, most of them unnecessary – even blinded by Kate, Luc was supremely aware of the political situation. He simply didn't care. Finally, Lucius sighed. They had been over this again and again, Lucius advising Luc to give her up, warning him of the dangers, and Luc calmly refusing, insisting that he knew what he was doing, and that he could – and would – protect her against the whole world, even his father and brother if it became necessary.

He had given his word, and he considered himself bound by it. And more than that – he loved her. And a Malfoy in love – even (or perhaps especially) a seventeen year old boy – would commit any sin, pay any price…

So be it.

"Just," he paused, uncharacteristically, "be careful, Luc. Don't give too much of yourself."

But Luc only laughed, bright golden confidence surrounding him like an enfolding aura. Still smiling, he opened the door to their usual compartment and entered, greeting the others almost gaily, buoyed on a cloud of his own good mood.

When the Malfoy chose to spread their light and laughter, there could be no one more enchanting…

Lucius remained outside, a bitter, rueful smile on his lips.

* * *

Any comments would be greatly welcomed. Thanks to all who reviewed before.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N – In this chapter: unlikely alliances, confrontations, consequences, and converts. And even some Churchill, because he was a cool dude, and made an immortal speech.

Disclaimer – I don't own anything. Don't sue me.

* * *

Chapter 11

* * *

The doorbell rang at about half-past four, just as Richard and Elizabeth Evans were sitting down for their afternoon tea. They had not been expecting a visitor, especially at this time of day, and so Richard got up to answer the door himself, telling his wife to be careful, just in case. Lily and Kate had told them some wild stories about terrorist wizards on a crusade for pure blood, and however much they might have liked to discount them as fabrications, exaggerations, they knew that their daughters would not lie to them – not on such an important topic.

So it was that Richard was pleasantly relieved to find that their unexpected visitor was a middle aged man, dressed in a standard – if very expensively cut – business suit and tie. But not even he could have mistaken the man for an ordinary, conventional businessman – the everyday trappings of respectability simply did not suit him, it looked as if they were trying to cloak a personality that could not be concealed, even by the conventionally discreet pinstripes.

Perhaps it was the shoulder-length white hair, caught back in a queue, or the keen, penetrating silver eyes. Perhaps it was the confidence, the bone deep assurance of a man used to controlling the world around him – or of a man who had shaped and created that very world, through his own efforts.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said politely. "How do you do?"

Marcus Malfoy – for so it was, surely – looked briefly amused, before the fleeting expression was replaced by what had to be his usual sardonic mask. Young Lucien had told them stories of his father, leaving him and Elizabeth with a somewhat confused impression of a sophisticated, cultured man with positively feudal ideas of responsibility and obligation.

An anachronism? Perhaps, in some ways, he might be –

But anachronism or not, he was here, on their doorstep, in full view of the neighbours and any passers-by.

"Won't you come in?" Richard asked politely. "You're just in time for afternoon tea."

* * *

A pleasant man, thought Marcus Malfoy about half an hour later. A pleasant couple, if rather unassuming; Luc had perhaps been overly harsh in his assessment of them as mediocre. Richard was obviously intelligent enough, but he lacked ambition; he was happy with his lot, with his suburban house and lifestyle – the mother, too, was content with her social circles and small committees, and had none of the modern muggle notions of feminine empowerment and equality.

Their two changeling daughters must have come as quite a shock.

However, the visit had been necessary – he had found out just how much Kate had told her parents, and how much Lily had told them, and could now make an educated guess at the truth that lay in between the two highly subjective accounts. He had delivered a warning of his own, and he had taken the chance to place some safeguards around the house – Richard Evans had told him that he had also received a visit from James Potter, Snr, and the evidence of this could be seen in the wards already in place. Marcus had strengthened and reinforced them, privately amused at the thought of this unprecedented act of cooperation.

"_My son James is becoming very partial in his attentions towards the muggleborn, Lily Evans. I understand that her sister is very close to your two sons, Malfoy – in this, at least, we share a common interest..."_

A common interest with James Potter.

A mudblood twisting his son around her little finger.

And he, Marcus Malfoy, paying a call on her muggle parents...

"_Their blood makes them vulnerable, but unlike their daughters, they have no way of defending themselves from anonymous enemies from an entirely different world."_

To his knowledge, such things had never mattered – he had learned of death's absolute impartiality the hard way, fighting the Germans and Grindelwald both – but evidently Potter thought it unfair. Marcus thought it only reinforced the fact that muggles had no place at all in wizarding society, but in the end he was too much of a pragmatist to believe they could be wiped out. Just as he was too much of a pragmatist to believe that the Evans family would not be attacked, or that Luc's association with them would go unnoticed.

"_My daughters have told me about these Death Eaters, Mr. Malfoy. What could we possibly do if they do come? I am not a soldier, and I know nothing of magic..."_

"_I gave my word, Father!"_

__

_

* * *

_

__

Augustus Snape waited on the other side of the street from the Evans' house – and a small, boxy little muggle hovel it was – and waited for Malfoy to emerge. He himself was dressed in ordinary black robes, blending into the shadows, but Malfoy was wearing – of all things – a muggle business suit, and a _tie._

He knew the man had a partiality for muggles – he treated them as if they were worthy of his time and consideration – but he hadn't thought the interest went this deep. He tolerated his son's scandalous connection with a mudblood, and if this visit was anything to go by, he was checking out the parents – and that could mean only one thing.

Marriage.

Malfoy was actually considering allowing his bastard to marry the girl. Thinking of joining the pure, ancient Malfoy blood to an unknown bloodline that could be a carrier for anything – any taints, any curses, any diseases. Granted, the boy was illegitimate and so he and his were forever barred from the succession, but even so...

Tainted blood was a permanent affliction – it did not suddenly cease after the seventh generation. And once the taint entered a bloodline, it could never be removed.

* * *

Marcus noticed him from the corner of the eye as he walked out of the small picket fence, and allowed himself a small trickle of wariness – no, Snape would most likely not try to kill him tonight, but nevertheless it paid to be alert. The man was subtle, cunning, and slippery, and no doubt loaded with an arsenal of lethal poisons, although Marcus was by far the better dueler and more experienced combatant. It would be an interesting match, if – when – the warring with words turned to actions and the rivalry they had always shared turned lethal.

But it was not to be this night.

As he crossed the street, the shadow detached itself, resolved itself, and Marcus Malfoy faced Augustus Snape in the half-light in the middle of a quiet muggle street. The antagonism crackling between them was all but tangible.

"Well, Malfoy, tell me it isn't true. Tell me you have not betrayed all of our principles and ideas for a mudblood." Tall, saturnine and sharp tongued, Snape had always had a taste for cruelty and a hatred of muggles – Marcus had heard rumours that he had been able to fulfill both of those desires in his new Lord's service – and a particular hatred reserved for the Malfoy.

"It is not I who has betrayed our principles and ideas, Snape. You are the one who bent knee to a half-blood son of a third-rate House."

Snape bridled automatically, but then subsided; he was no stranger to hypocrisy. "The accident of his blood does not matter –" but he continued, riding over the retort he knew Marcus was thinking – "it only makes him more determined to carry out his ideals. But if we must speak of bloodlines, he can prove his descent from Salazar Slytherin himself..."

Marcus' expression was unimpressed. What did he care for Salazar Slytherin – although a great wizard to be sure – when he could trace direct descent from an older, far more terrible legend? And so could Snape, for that matter. Knowing this, Snape's voice had not risen to the ringing shout he might have used had he been speaking to other, more average wizards; despite their rivalry, they had always understood each other well enough.

"You should not underestimate the extent of his influence, Malfoy," Snape said with more conviction. "He is a dangerous man to cross."

Marcus, still standing calmly in the middle of the road, lifted his eyes to meet Snape's. "And so am I a dangerous man to cross," he said very softly. "If it becomes necessary."

But Snape ignored the sudden change in tone. "You cannot keep yourself apart forever. Sooner or later you're going to have to become involved, commit yourself, just as we had to with Grindelwald – and you know how much that cost, even though we actually won ..."

Yes, Marcus remembered the fight against Grindelwald, how terrible it had been –

_We shall never surrender..._

Remembered how long it had taken for England – muggle and wizarding both – to recover afterwards, having expended so much of itself.

But they had won the war.

"Join us, Malfoy. Get rid of the mudblood, your son can be brought to see sense. You could be one of the highest in our Lord's esteem; you can raise your fortunes higher than they have ever been. You need never again pander to muggles and muggle lovers, nor will their affairs ever backlash on us like last time..."

_Goddamn Hitler and Mussolini and Chamberlain all, for being deceived by Grindelwald, for taking us all to the very brink, and beyond..._

But...

There had been justification for that fight. He had no wish to run around in black robes terrorizing innocent civilians and non-combatants, trying to tear down the very society he had fought so hard to preserve. This...this half-baked crusade for pure blood was nothing more than an excuse to regain positions and power long lost. And he wanted no part of it.

Slowly, knowing full the consequences of his actions, he shook his head. "No, Snape. I have no love for muggles or their presence in our world, but I will not join your crusade – or your revolution."

Snape's mouth twisted. "So be it." He turned his back, melted back into the shadows and apparated away.

Marcus stood there a while longer, under the glow of the newly lit streetlights, a queer mocking not-smile playing around his lips.

* * *

Kate woke to a new day, and knew immediately that something was wrong.

Walking towards her usual place at the Slytherin table for breakfast she could hear the whispers, the speculation; there were always rumours in Slytherin, but today was unusual in that the whisperers did not lower their voices as she went by. And that was never a good sign.

..._Refused to join..._

..._Authorised their destruction..._

..._Must be very cautious – dangerous reputation... _

..._And the mudblood?..._

..._get rid of her..._

What had happened? Had Marcus Malfoy refused to join?

She caught sight of Luc and Lucius, and went over to join them. They looked up as she approached and let her in to their conference. There was a letter lying on the table between them and when Luc indicated that she should read it she picked it up, scanned it quickly, and then put it back, very carefully, her face grim.

_The offer we long predicted has been made and refused. There is no going back now._

_Hold true to your oath, Lucien, if you can – if not, Potter will give assistance. They are watching her parents. _

_And, Lucius, be on your guard for anything. Do not underestimate them..._

__

_

* * *

_

__

Severus Snape had also received a letter.

Allowing it to fall back to the table, he let his hair – shoulder length, just long enough to mask his features – fall forward over his eyes, over his face, so that he was hidden from the others, from those he had once honestly called friends...

Everything that he had most dreaded had come to pass.

But then he had always known it would.

* * *

Most of the children of influential families in Slytherin received letters at breakfast that day; almost certainly, most of those letters contained the same information. The teachers noted that the whole House was unusually subdued, the atmosphere tense, calm – almost too calm – and that the students had somehow drawn together along political lines, the small number of cross-boundary friendships had become very, very distant and formal, as if they feared the consequences of becoming too close, or too closely associated, which were not at all the same thing.

Kate clung to Luc and Lucius, as if she were wary of being caught alone.

But somehow, there was an odd association that survived even the ominous tension pervading Slytherin.

Dominic and Michel de Sauvigny, the two cousins that had somehow found their way into Slytherin – although even now, no one quite knew why – were lazing under one of the trees on the grounds, talking with some of their other de Sauvigny cousins from the other Houses. For most of their time at Hogwarts they had been doing this, every now and then, meeting with their family members and talking of Caine, of Anne his mother, and of the future of the House.

And in six years, they had managed to make quite a few of them – at least half of the de Sauvigny children at Hogwarts – listen to what they had to say.

They spoke of changing times, of increasingly complex markets, and of political influence. They spoke of strength, power, capability, of control – and of Caine's recklessness and hot-blooded temper. They spoke of Anne's unpopularity, and of Aethan's conservatism, and of the need for a stronger, surer, yet more progressive hand...

They spoke of Luc Malfoy.

And then, when they had said what they had to say, they would introduce those who would hear more to their alien, unfamiliar cousin, and some of them would see a stranger, a _Malfoy,_ but some of them...

Some of them would see an answer.

* * *

A/N – More Marcus Malfoy (sighs dreamily...) You know, I have thought that it would be very interesting to make him an Auror – that would lead to very interesting situations, especially for Lucius – but it's too late now. You will all have to speculate, or I will have to write another story.

And welcome back the de Sauvigny plot thread. I thought I had lost track of it there, but I found it again.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Feedback of any kind is welcome.


	12. Doubts

A/N – Sorry about the delay. I find it harder to continue knowing how it's all going to end. Here is chapter 12, and for the first time I introduce Narcissa into the fic, because I quite like exploring her.

Earlier in this fic, some time in '02, I said that Sirius was the half-blooded son of an Irish muggle conman. That was before I'd heard of the Most Noble House of Black, which gives him, in my opinion, just a little more depth than the high-spirited Gryffindoric prankster I had no use for before. So now I would like to officially change his background to that which JKR outlined in OotP. I might even go back and change the earlier chapter.

Mad-Maudlin-42 – I'm sorry if I confused you. James Potter is most definitely pureblooded. It's only Lily and Kate who are not. (And you identified Churchill! Kudos!)

Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter or any of the canon characters and concepts. All the rest should be mine.

* * *

Chapter 12 - Doubts

* * *

At the breakfast table, Dominic de Sauvigny watched his cousin with troubled eyes. There did not seem to be anything different in his manner at all, but Dominic thought he could sense an extra tension, a subliminal tightening of the nerves – although he would never be able to truly read Luc, he had picked up some things in his years in Slytherin.

He'd had to. He had been born in a predominantly Gryffindoric Clan: his parents had been Gryffindors, and so had their parents been – he had been as innocent as a newborn babe in his first year at Hogwarts. If it hadn't been for Luc…

He was not a fool.

He knew what Luc had done in accepting him and Michel, acknowledging the blood tie that he could have justifiably ignored – and he was more than grateful for it. But he had heard the rumours going around Slytherin about Marcus Malfoy – that he had refused Augustus Snape's offer, and that he had been slated for further persuasion – and he was worried that the trouble Malfoy had drawn upon himself would reflect on his two sons, and by association anyone in the least connected to them.

He and Michel were too closely entwined with their bastard cousin. Caine would not take them back, now – not even if they went begging on their knees. They had burned their boats too thoroughly, allied themselves too publicly to his main rival in a way that he would never forgive.

If Luc fell, then where would that leave them? Where would it leave all their dreams of a new, rejuvenated House?

Dominic had invested too much time and effort into making his cousin acceptable, too much time discrediting and undermining Caine and courting his peers into supporting Luc, to see it all fail now.

* * *

"Even Dominic is caught up in the implications of Father's decision," Lucius said dryly, the day after they received their father's letter. "He sees all his efforts collapsing into nothing." They were sitting alone in their dormitory, snatching some time before the beginning of the day's lessons.

Luc scowled. "What, does he want me to go against our father's express wishes and join just so he can have a live puppet ruler?"

"I don't think he wants a puppet, brother, I think he just wants you alive. Your dear cousin is too rigidly honourable to think like we do."

"But he's not too honourable to suggest that I join Voldemort just to ensure my survival," Luc said darkly.

Lucius looked amused. "Well, it would make certain things much easier…" he began.

"No!" Luc snapped. "Merlin's Balls, no. I will not bend knee to a half-blood just for convenience's sake. And nor will I do it because of any pressure or harassment. If – and I say if – I ever take the Dark Mark, it will be because I choose to, and not before." He looked unusually grim, his brows drawn fiercely together, his eyes hard.

"They've been getting at you, have they?" Lucius asked quietly.

"Yes," Luc sighed. "They've been trying to court me, to intimidate me, to scare me –" he stopped, looked at his brother seriously. "They spoke of Kate."

"Ah."

"As you say." He stood up abruptly, prowled restlessly around the room. "I didn't believe him when Father told me she would become a liability. I still don't – but I can see his reasoning all too clearly, now…"

Lucius frowned, following his restless movements. It was not often that Luc revealed such doubts – usually, he took care to seem supremely unconcerned. "They're threatening her?"

"Threatening her, threatening me – threatening her sister and parents, too. Gods, Lucius, it infuriates me –"

"Father told us her house and family are well protected. The sister can look after herself – or else Potter will protect her – and you yourself are supremely capable of looking after your own. What's the problem?"

Suddenly, Luc stopped pacing, deflated. He turned back to Lucius, his eyes shadowed. "There are times when I wonder…" He trailed off, frowning in deep thought.

"What?" Lucius demanded, unsettled by this new side to his normally impassive brother.

But before Luc could finish, the door banged open and Snape entered, eyeing them both intently with his black, unreadable eyes. Since he had been initiated, Snape had been growing further away from them both – what small measures of trust they had ever had had disappeared, and all that was left was an empty shell held together by habit, irony and an appreciation for each other's intelligence.

His eyes darted to them both, the other boy said nothing, only collected his books in silence and went out, closing the door behind him.

But the moment had already gone, and Luc had resumed his habitual calm. Any inclination he might have had to confide his doubts had vanished – and Lucius could not help but be relieved.

* * *

The Slytherin girls were in full, vicious form that morning, their claws sharp and well practiced, their intentions utterly malevolent.

"Kate Evans?" Narcissa Black tossed her silver-white hair dramatically, eyes narrowed in feline spite. "She's nothing; a hollow reflection…"

For six years, they had had to put up with a mudblood in their dormitory, enchanting all of the most eligible Slytherin males, catching and holding the exclusive attention of Luc Malfoy himself – and now they finally had the chance to attack her, in the full confidence that Luc Malfoy would not – could not – protect her forever.

"Hollow?" her listeners asked, some of them genuinely interested, some of them merely sycophantic. "What do you mean?"

"She has no strength, no spirit of her own – even her opinions and thoughts are echoes of Luc Malfoy's. There is nothing of _her_ beyond that blank mask." Narcissa's mouth set stubbornly. "I will _never_ let a man control me like that…"

If Narcissa saw the swift, sidelong glances some of the girls exchanged at that, she made no mention of it. Her feminist leanings – an overt rebellion against a dictatorial, chauvinistic father – were no secret, but most of Slytherin doubted her ability to actually live up to them. It was a safer rebellion than her cousin Sirius', tolerated with bad grace on the understanding that, once she was married to a rich, eligible High Clan Lord, she would drop such foolishness and become a dutiful, obedient wife –

It was no wonder she hated Kate, really. The mudblood girl had, by automatic right of birth and upbringing, a freedom that Narcissa would never have. And no matter that she put on such a pose of submission to Luc, Narcissa knew that Luc listened to her, respected her, and gave her more freedom under his protection than Narcissa could ever dream of…

"Besides," she went on. "very soon, she'll be nothing at all. You'll see. Soon her beloved protector will come to his senses and abandon her, and then she'll find out what it's like on her own…"

* * *

"Well, Albus," Alastor Moody's head said grimly, flickering in the flames of the fireplace in the Headmaster's study later that night, "we're in for it now. Snape's sounded Malfoy out and has been refused."

Dumbledore sighed wearily and smoothed a hand over his beard. "Damn."

Minerva McGonagall looked puzzled. "Did you want to see Malfoy join with these…Death Eaters?" she asked.

"No, my dear," Dumbledore said gently. "But this means that they'll no longer try and sway him to their cause. They'll try and kill him now."

"Yes," Moody growled. "They'll take out the only moderate one in the whole bloody High Clan. And then we'll be in trouble."

"But surely there must be some others who don't support them?"

"Oh, I'm sure there are some," irony grated in Moody's voice, "just look at Harcourt, who came over to us after his father's murder two years ago. But Harcourt's only in the middle ranks – Malfoy has real influence. If they'd managed to get his support, it would have been a huge boost to their legitimacy. As it is, he's now the only one left who has the clout to really oppose them…"

"And you don't believe he can," Dumbledore stated.

"No. So watch those two boys like a hawk, Albus. We can't afford to lose old Marcus, only to have his son join wholeheartedly."

"But if their father dies," McGonagall asked, "won't that turn them the other way, towards us?"

Moody snorted. "Who knows how those bloody high class Slytherins think? I wouldn't put anything past them – they're cold blooded buggers, all of them. Even the children…"

Dumbledore looked troubled, clearly upset by the deep-set prejudice in that statement. But he didn't contradict him: McGonagall would remember that, later, after it had all gone so spectacularly wrong…

* * *

The air was so clear, high up in the Astronomy Tower. The night breezes, cooled by the beginnings of Autumn, swirled around the stone battlements and tugged at her hair, whipping it back into her face as she stared blindly out into the darkness. She was not looking at the shadowed buildings and grounds at Hogwarts, but into a future where one of the bulwarks of her life, one of the things she had thought of as absolute could be taken away from her, in the name of expediency, or family loyalty, or her own protection –

Wasn't it enough that she had given him everything she had? That she had done everything he had ever asked of her, given up her independence, her sister, her personality, so that she could stay by his side?

He had sworn to protect her.

But could he afford to?

She heard his footsteps behind her, and was not surprised. She'd known he would come, drawn by the same turmoil that troubled her – they even thought alike, now, after such a long, intimate association. She didn't turn around when his arms came around her, enclosing her in rich, heady, sandalwood scented warmth. His breath stirred her hair, whispered over her temples as he dropped a kiss over her hair.

"They threatened us," she stated quietly, relaxing into his hold.

She could feel his sudden tension, before he forced his muscles to relax. "Yes. I told them what they could do with their threats."

She almost smiled, but it died after only a moment. "You can't hold out against them forever. There will be too much pressure, from too many directions."

His arms tightened around her almost painfully. "I will protect you for as long as I must," he said, his voice hard, flat and utterly determined. "I swore it. Nothing will ever harm you, love, believe me…"

She said nothing.

_Oh, love; I could almost believe you, when you say it with such conviction… _

* * *

A/N – Ah, perhaps Marcus' sons are more pragmatic than he is. Or perhaps they're more innocent, in a way, and don't quite know the extent of what they're talking so casually about.

A canon question – I don't have a copy of Prisoner of Azkaban. Can someone please tell me whether Snape's unfortunate run in with Werewolf!Remus happened in his sixth year or his seventh? Thanks very much. I thought I'd put some Snape angst in the next chapter.

Thanks very much to all my reviewers. All your feedback is greatly welcomed.


	13. Father and Son

A/N – Well, what was going to be part of this chapter got shunted off into Speculations. In this particular version, I was reminded that Lucius and Luc, for all their Slytherin cunning/ruthlessness/etc, are really only seventeen. Don't you think that they'd have at least some of the problems associated with adolescence?

Kylaya – I know that you've requested Happy!Luc and Kate for a while now. Hopefully this chapter is a little more light hearted, but I'll see about writing a separate piece just for you. I'll put it in Speculations, and see how fluffy I can possibly get without strangling myself. Perhaps a Quidditch lesson? Will that do?

Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. Don't sue.

* * *

Chapter 13

* * *

The restlessness of the Slytherins was so disruptive and so widespread that the rest of the school soon began to notice – it was so obvious, in fact, that even the Gryffindors suspected it. Of course, Lucius knew that such a statement was a broad generality, a stereotypical prejudice that could not truly apply in real life – he was open-minded enough to accept this – but there were times when only stereotypes would do.

There was nothing like indulging a little pettiness to lift the spirits – even if it was only temporary.

Things were going very badly.

Slytherin had all but polarized – those who supported the Malfoy opposing those who hated them, joined with those who supported the Dark Lord and wished to see Lucius on his knees, licking a halfblood's boots. He suspected that there were also more than a few who wished to see Kate on her knees, performing a very different service – but he did not share these suspicions with Luc.

Snape had pulled away, convincing himself in his isolation that the friendship had not meant so very much after all, that it was better to obey his father than to stand by his friends, and Rayden, Brandon and Shan were more and more cautious in their interactions. No doubt they, too, had received letters from home –

He knew Rayden's older brother Regulus had already received the Dark Mark, and that Brandon's father had gone the same way. Lawrence Andahni was seriously considering it, and Gabriel Courtney – almost as accomplished a Potions Master as old Augustus – was vying with Snape Snr. for the post of Chief Inquisitor.

And Marcus Malfoy, in the midst of all this jockeying for position, the mad scramble to demonstrate and prove their loyalty?

_Be on your guard for anything. Don't underestimate them. _

His father sent one short letter, stating that he had refused the offer and warning them to be on their guard. And nothing more – no justification, no reassurance, nothing – from the man who held his, Luc's and Kate's lives in his care. The older he had grown, the more he had learned, the less Lucius liked about the situation…

Why did his father not do _something_, at least?

Before they were left with no choices at all.

* * *

In actual fact, Marcus Malfoy was indeed doing something about the situation. Lucius was intelligent, incisive and diabolically cunning, and possessed a number of extremely Slytherin virtues – and all the vices that go with them – but since he'd turned seventeen, he'd had something of a blind spot where his father was concerned.

Marcus was reliably confident that he would outgrow this irrational stage – alas, he'd long since given up hope of Luc outgrowing Kate – but until then, he supposed he would simply have to ignore the unspoken questions, challenges, and very subtle resentment. He was assured that this was a perfectly normal part of growing up – he couldn't remember going through it, himself, because his father would have flogged it out of him – and that as soon as Lucius had established his own place in the world and gained confidence in himself, he would give up the constant needling and challenging.

The problem was that he was damned sure Lucius was actively considering taking the easy, safe route to power and security, and the only thing that was holding him back was his affection for Luc. And the only thing holding Luc back from the easiest, most efficient route to the leadership of the de Sauvigny?

One mudblood.

Marcus wasn't sure whether he was grateful for Kate's presence, or whether he should curse her for it. She made things immeasurably difficult for him, but she was also the only thing that kept his sons from giving into their ambition. She held Luc back from reaching his full potential, but he wasn't sure that he wanted Luc to reach such heights in these very hazardous days.

Better a shadow of what he might be, than to have his full strength at the Dark Lord's disposal, surely?

Such were the unfortunate thoughts of a leader, and not a father. He knew Lucius thought him weak, old, for not doing something definite about Voldemort now that he had declared himself – weak and ineffectual, because he had still not moved against the Death Eaters, but remained neutral even now – but Lucius had yet to learn the very hard lesson of patience.

Precipitate action – curses, action, assassination and torture – would be useless at this stage in time. Because Augustus Snape, now that he knew Marcus would not be persuaded, had begun a very subtle campaign of misinformation, poisoning the wizarding community against him and the Malfoy, spreading untraceable rumours, and trying in every way that he could to discredit them. If he acted now, it would only confirm the worst of the rumours…

* * *

Intrigue, covert espionage and cutthroat manoeuvring took place daily inside the corridors of Hogwarts and there were all kinds of strife stirring within the common rooms of the four Houses, but despite all that, Hogwarts was still a school, and its students were still only in their teens. Outside, there were a growing number of attacks, killings – of muggleborn witches and wizards and their families – attributed to the Death Eaters, the followers of Lord Voldemort, who were obviously moving from a cult to a terrifying new version of the Ku Klux Klan. Even inside, there was vicious rivalry in Slytherin and the other Houses, as the Death Eaters tried to recruit students. But, in a surreal mockery of reality, the Quidditch Cup was still hotly contested – even the Slytherins forgot that they were Death Eaters in training and eagerly donned Quidditch robes, cheering and competing as if defeating the Gryffindors was the most important thing on their minds.

It was 1977, and all the preliminary games had been completed. There were only two teams left, now, and in two weeks would come the grand final – Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, one of the most eagerly awaited events of the year. Because these two teams were the strongest their two Houses had seen in at least a generation – seven years in the making, every player supremely confident in their role and their skill…

The Gryffindor Dream Team – keeper Caine de Sauvigny, beaters Sirius Black and Connor McGregor, chasers Liam Finnigan, Alison Hartley and Lily Evans, and seeker James Potter.

The Lords of Slytherin – keeper Luc Malfoy, beaters Severus Snape and Darius Flint, chasers Shan Andahni, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, and seeker Kate Evans.

Controversy abounded.

James Potter and Lily Evans had had a spectacularly public falling out earlier in the year that had nearly torn the Gryffindor team apart. Alison Hartley was sleeping with Darius Flint, and neither of their teams was pleased about it. Severus Snape actively despised Potter and Black, while Luc Malfoy was only waiting for a chance to get rid of his de Sauvigny half brother – and Caine knew it, and had demanded protection. There were rumours of a love triangle between Lucius Malfoy and Sirius and Narcissa Black – although that had never been proven – and Irish Catholic Liam Finnigan's father had just been killed in Belfast, and he was talking wildly about making all the bloody English pay.

But by far the most controversial, hotly debated topic of the season was the selection of the Slytherin seeker. There was no denying her skill, or her enthusiasm for the game, or even her ambitious competitive drive, but still…

The Slytherins would have welcomed her with open arms, had it not been for the unfortunate accident of her birth. They would even have accepted her as she was, if she had been properly modest and self-effacing as she had been for most of her time at Hogwarts. But when it came to Quidditch, as Luc had discovered to his cost some time ago, there were some things that even Kate would not compromise on.

She loved the game. She loved flying, and she loved the thrill of single-mindedly chasing the Snitch – and even more, she loved beating Gryffindor. Given all these things, and the fact that Lucius Malfoy was the Team Captain – exceptions could be made. But only so long as she won – and every time that Kate had played Seeker, Slytherin had not lost a single game.

So. Grudging acceptance. Resentment, but not enough that the malcontents were willing to challenge Malfoy's iron fist. And they couldn't even truly hope that she lost…

Despite their subtlety, their indirect paths of thought, and their cunning, most Slytherins saw some things in black and white – and dislike of mudbloods had been, for centuries, one of the most fixed of these certainties. Kate challenged this, and that was why they hated her. The Malfoy – their traditional leaders – had accepted and even sheltered her, allowing her to continue challenging the old, traditional ways, and so they hated her even more, because they could not truly despise the Malfoy in the same way.

But she _was _a damned good Seeker…

* * *

Next chapter – much action, I promise. Thanks to all those who are still with me and this story. I know it's choppy and all over the place, but I'm still grimly determined to finish. 


	14. Chapter 14

A/N – Well, finally we come to the business end of the story. This chapter contains Angsty!Snape, Feminist!Lily, Villainous!Nott and Vengeful!Luc and Lucius.

Disclaimer – I don't own any of the canon characters or concepts. Having said that (glances over at rest of fic) quite a lot of the rest must be mine. The song 'I Am Woman' by Helen Reddy came out in 1972 – just in time to influence two impressionable young girls. I'm sure we all know the words.

* * *

Have you come here for forgiveness?  
_Have you come to raise the dead?  
__Have you come here to play Jesus,  
__To the lepers in your head?_

_U2, One._

* * *

Chapter 14

* * *

Severus Snape stared dully at the note his father's owl had just delivered, waking him up out of a rare snatch of sound sleep. 

_Marcus Malfoy is dead. Now we shall see how the cubs manage alone. _

The words swam before him, echoing, and he could all but hear the satisfaction in his father's silken, deceptively soft voice.

_Marcus Malfoy is dead._

He had been deliberately distancing himself from the Malfoy brothers, anticipating this, for the last six months. But here was the real thing – this note, and the tidings it bore, spelled the end of any kind of amity between them all.

Because his father had finally succeeded in destroying his old enemy. And, even more than that, Severus was certain that his father had been the one to Marcus Malfoy – no doubt he had promised any number of favours, incurred any number of debts, merely for the pleasure of the last and fatal blow.

He had sold the last ambitious, hate-blinded remnants of his soul for this one, vicious gratification.

And more than that, he had finally struck the last blow freeing his son from the closest thing to a real friendship he had ever had.

_Now we shall see how the cubs manage alone…_

* * *

Before breakfast the next morning, after passing a sleepless, haunted night, he found Lucius alone and tried, haltingly to explain. Sitting on a stone bench in a grassy alcove, because Lucius liked to walk in the morning, he found it incredibly difficult to broach the subject – it was a gloriously sunny morning, a perfect day, and somehow he did not want to ruin it with his news. 

But if he did not tell them, they would soon find out – either from the Ministry or other, darker sources – and that would be worse, somehow, than if they heard it from his confession.

"My father has long hated yours," he began, somewhat clumsily.

Lucius slanted him a glance. "I know."

Somewhere, a lark was calling, its high, clear voice piercing the morning light.

"He deliberately led you astray on that long-ago trip to Diagon Alley, so that he could contrive a friendship between us."

"I know," Lucius said again, wryly.

Snape was aware of a tightness in his chest, a pressure; knew it was because he did not want to go on. He did not want to take this to its inevitable conclusion, where he would finally lose Lucius' calm amusement and Luc's brilliant laughter…

"He used it," he went on, "to cause trouble for your father. And then, when he refused to bend knee to Lord Voldemort…"

Lucius laughed. "But this is honest!" He sobered. "What's wrong, Sev? We all know the situation, we've known it since the beginning – why state it out loud unnecessarily?" For a public statement of a thing previously unsaid became a matter of record.

Snape swallowed unhappily, upset enough to show it. "I have to say it. I have to explain… I received a letter from my father last night. He said that your father…"

He paused, swallowed again. Lucius did not interject.

"He said that your father is dead. And I am very sure, reading between the lines, that my father killed him himself…"

Slowly, Lucius' face blanked, and went rigid. He looked away, unseeing, and they sat there, both of them, in terrible silence. The lark was still singing, completely oblivious to the tension; the normal morning sounds of Hogwarts – laughing, chattering children, rapid, hurrying footsteps and opening and closing doors – carried to them, but did not interrupt their silence.

Snape had never possessed Lucius' gift of fair, easy speech. Sitting there, unable to do or say anything to comfort his friend, he wished that he could do something that would make it all better –

Something that would bring Marcus Malfoy back, and heal the enmity between Malfoy and Snape, and magically solve the problem of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters –

But he had never believed in such fairy tales.

Instead, he said, "I'm sorry."

It was such a pitifully inadequate response that he cringed inside, even as he offered it as the only comfort he had. But Lucius only laughed – an abrupt, almost unsteady laugh that held more bitterness than mirth.

It was the only outward sign of his reaction.

"_You _need not apologise, Sev."

* * *

Lily found her sister down by the lake, throwing scraps of bread to the giant squid. For once, there was no sign of Luc, or of any other Slytherin escorts: Kate was completely alone, and it was only now, out of sight of the others, that Lily could see how she had changed. 

There was a vulnerability about her, now – a distance, an air of abstraction. Kate had always been prone to introspection, but now she hardly ever spoke and had become adept at sliding into the shadows. In fact, had it not been her stubborn determination at Quidditch, despite everything others threw at her, Lily would have thought her broken –

And then she would have had to kill Luc.

"I've heard the news," she said, sitting down next to Kate and appropriating a slice of bread for herself. "It's all over the school."

The official Ministry notification – the dreaded black envelope – had been delivered that morning at breakfast, in full view of the whole student body. The brothers Malfoy had been the focus of eight hundred pairs of eyes as they opened the message – and quite a number of onlookers had been bitterly disappointed to see their complete lack of reaction to the news.

"Is that so," Kate said flatly. Here, Lily noted bitterly, Kate would show spirit: here, where nobody who mattered could see.

"Speculation is rife," she continued doggedly. "They say –"

"They say many things," Kate cut her off. "I have heard it all, and more, whispered in the Slytherin common room." She drew in a deep, ragged breath, turned her face away to gaze out over the lake. "And it scares me, Lily…"

Lily froze. "Luc…"

"Is seventeen years old. He is unsure, and ambitious, and angry and grieving all at the same time. He swears he will protect me, but I begin to wonder if he can – or if he will need protection himself."

"I thought you had complete faith in him," Lily argued. She had never heard Kate talk like this before.

Kate's smile was twisted and bitter. "My dear Lily," she said, "I'm a Slytherin, and a realist. We never have complete faith in anyone."

_Oh, Kate, look what you've become…_

"Well then," she said, rallying determinedly, "we'll just have to be strong enough on our own. You don't need Luc to protect you – this is 1977, and you're a strong, modern woman. You can stand on your own two feet, without any man to support you."

Slowly, imperceptibly, Kate's eyes brightened with amusement. Lily forged on. "Do you remember when we were young, and we swore we were going to take on the world all by ourselves, just the two of us? Nothing would ever stop us – we would be strong and invincible, just like the song…"

But here Kate's laughter dimmed. "Yes… But that's only a song. You can afford to live up to it, Lily, because you're a Gryffindor – but it doesn't work like that in Slytherin."

"Oh, that's bullshit, Kate – you can't tell me –" But Lily's protest was cut off by a sneering, vicious voice from behind them.

* * *

"Look – it's the mudblood and her sister, sitting all alone out here, out of view of the castle. I know mudbloods are stupid, but I credited even you with better brains." Alastair Nott, solid, burly and avowed enemy of Lucius Malfoy, looked delighted with his find. 

"Oh, sod off, Nott," Lily snarled. "Go bother someone who cares what you think."

Kate watched her sister's defiance with horrified fascination tinged with furtive awe. She herself had long ago learned never to fight back as Lily was doing, but that didn't mean she didn't – deep, deep down – admire her sister's spirit. Even if it would be broken after a year or so in Slytherin…

Hastily, she reverted back to her silent, passive persona, knowing from bitter experience that it was the best way to deal with Nott's crude taunting.

"Was I talking to you, bitch?" he sneered. "I was talking to Malfoy's whore – who may be looking for another protector soon. If she's lucky, I might even step in and offer myself as a candidate…"

Lily went white, and then flushed furiously, bristling with rage. But still, Nott ignored her. "Well, Kate darling, what do you say?"

Kate merely bowed her head and turned away, refusing to answer. Luc had always stepped in before this, preventing it from going any further – but Luc was not here.

Nott laughed at her response, stepping forward confidently and reaching for her chin – to force her to turn and face him, or to see whether he had affected her, she didn't know. But she did know it was becoming dangerous – he'd tried this before, always half in jest, but this time it was deadly serious.

Lily started forward, as if she were actually going to physically attack him, but another voice intervened, breaking the ugly atmosphere. Kate's heart lifted, thinking it was Luc – but then she recognized Sirius Black.

"If I were her, Nott," he taunted, that smooth, dry voice unmistakably revealing his heritage – the heritage he had so disgraced – "I would sooner take a viper to my bed. I'd have more chance of survival."

Alastair Nott hated Sirius Black almost as much as he hated Lucius Malfoy.

"What the fuck does this have to do with you, Black?"

"Well," said James Potter, pretending to think it over, "Kate is Lily's sister, and Lily is ours." He indicated Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, the rest of the famous foursome. "So we can't have you harassing her, Nott," he growled, fingering his wand.

Nott gave an inarticulate snarl and fumbled for his own wand. And then, shifting her eyes away from the impending brawl, Kate saw Luc, standing about twenty metres away in a stand of trees, watching the unfolding drama impassively.

Their eyes met.

She wondered if Nott would have the brains to say, _I was not harassing your mudblood, Potter, but her sister, who belongs to another. And if that other sees fit not to object to my treatment of his own mudblood…_and what would happen if he did.

She wondered if Luc had known that the Marauders were near. She wondered if he knew that Nott would lose his temper, and therefore had deliberately not stepped in.

She wondered if he would step in next time, and if he did, whether he would be able to put a stop to a situation gone far, far past the point of a joke…

* * *

"I saw that little comedy down by the lake," Lucius said, that night in the privacy of his own, separate bedchamber. 

"Did you?" Luc asked coolly. He had no wish to speak of earlier today. He was not proud of his actions…

"I was ready to intervene myself, if it was called for. And yet you stood there and watched, after all the fervent avowals of your right and determination to protect her."

There was a little silence.

"I froze," he admitted. "I did not… I did not want to have to choose."

"Well, how hard can it be? You have chosen to protect her before…"

"But that was different!" He stopped, aware of the foolishness of his words. Always before, there had been an option to remain neutral, to hide behind their father who had the ultimate choice of action and loyalty. Now, in these first few days after his death, _their _actions would define their loyalties.

"We must do something," Lucius said musingly, thinking out loud, "to show our strength. If you insist on keeping your mudblood" – he ignored Luc's scowl – "then it must be quite spectacular, and yet nothing that would irrevocably proclaim our intentions…"

Almost unwillingly, Luc grinned. Lucius sounded like the quintessential mad genius – all it needed was a fluffy white cat. But it was true enough – Kate seriously complicated matters. As much as he hated acknowledging it, and as much as the sheer prejudiced blindness infuriated him, he knew that his father had been right to advise against her. Before this morning, he would have sworn any number of oaths that he would protect her, no matter what came…

But that had been before Marcus Malfoy had chosen the most impossibly inconvenient time imaginable to misstep and fall.

Somehow, he heard himself say, in a very strange, almost breaking voice: "When you first told me this morning, all I could think was that the timing was inconvenient…"

"A protective mechanism, I am told," Lucius said calmly, a shocking contrast to Luc's thoughts. "The mind's way of dealing with grief."

"Truly? Do you think it so?"

Lucius looked at him. "Of course I do. We both loved him. But I know – and so do you – that other things must come first, before we can afford the luxury of grieving for him…"

Of course. Their father would not be pleased to see them wallowing in self-pity while the world fell apart around them.

"Right." He drew himself together. "We must show them all we're not the weaklings they think us…"

"Without revealing, I trust, that we are indeed not nearly as strong as Father was…"

Luc threw him a black look. "Well, oh great leader? What think you?"

Lucius' eyes were hammered metal, fierce and bright. "Augustus Snape," he said very, very clearly.

Luc's eyes widened – this was not his calm, unemotional brother! – before he brought himself under control, and smiled in complete, unqualified approval. "Augustus Snape," he repeated, in tones of great satisfaction and anticipation.

* * *

Thank you to all my reviewers. Your comments and feedback are greatly appreciated. Next chapter, the Quidditch match. 


	15. Blood Feud

A/N – I lied. I promised the Quidditch match, and then poor Severus demanded that I give his father's death its proper due. So here it is – Augustus' death and its aftermath. Watch also for an appearance from our favourite Auror.

Disclaimer – I don't own any of Harry Potter's canon characters or concepts. All else is probably mine. Don't sue.

* * *

Bastard 15 – Blood Feud

* * *

The call came in just before dawn, the absolute worst hour of the morning. After long, long years in the field, Alastor Moody knew – better than any other – that nothing good ever came of such a summons, and in this case he was proved right once again.

Knockturn Alley was shrouded in dirty yellow fog, a bone deep chill emanating from more than the cracks in the cobblestones. The Aurors – those who had discovered the body – were huddled in a black robed group around a small brazier, their eyes lowered and their every movement cowed and furtive, as if they wished to wash their hands of it but knew they dared not.

Moody strode up to them, tailed by his newest apprentice – a young boy only just out of Hogwarts – and demanded to know what the hell they thought they were doing. "Why are you huddled together out here? Young Harcourt here has more idea of crime scene procedure than you fools…"

Reilly, the senior Auror on scene, normally a solid, reliable man – his face was white and slack, now – spoke up defensively. "It's been Marked, Moody."

"Marked?" he growled. "I don't care if it's been personally signed and autographed…"

But Harcourt – nineteen year old Dane Harcourt, Lord of High Clan Harcourt – understood the significance of those words, even if Moody did not. "Marked?" he repeated faintly. "By whom?"

Reilly gave him a longer, more assessing glance, paying attention this time – to his features, to his bearing – and evidently reassessing what he saw. "The Threefold Scar," he said grimly.

Three silver scars, running diagonally downward at a forty-five degree angle from right to left, on a black background. The simplest, oldest, and most infamous arms in British wizarding heraldry.

Malfoy.

And then, as somewhat of an afterthought, "He's still alive."

* * *

They had tortured him quite viciously, taking their time about it before they placed the spell that kept the smallest part of him alive no matter what they did (quite an ingenious spell actually) until someone tried to heal him, which caused it – as they had found out – to backlash quite spectacularly and put him out of his misery.

It had been an unusually…emphatic murder, a statement and a claim; these days Moody was more used to dealing with random Death Eater attacks than such precise, personal – and above all public – executions.

There had been no need to ask _who _had finally gotten the better of Augustus Snape, for they had left their Mark for all to see. The real question had been _why: _why they had made it so public, and why it had been so viciously personal.

He had not appreciated Harcourt's casual explanation of "Oh, because Augustus Snape killed Marcus Malfoy". That blasé statement had spawned a whole number of other questions, such as how and where Harcourt had picked up that little gem of gossip, and whether, given that knowledge, he had known or at least suspected that something like this was coming. And if he had, then why hadn't he warned Snape or, indeed, any of his superiors and supervisors?

Dane Harcourt, Slytherin and High Clan, had turned suddenly dark and unreadable eyes on him, and had told him that sons had a right – and a duty – to avenge their fathers, and that the Ministry had no right to interfere in what should be private High Clan business.

"But they left him lying here on the street for all to see!" Moody had snarled. "Marked, no less, with their own seal. I'd call that pretty damned public…"

"Yes, but this is a private vengeance feud. That's what their mark means – it's a warning to others not to interfere. That's why there are no witnesses, although it would be impossible not to notice him. And that's why the Aurors on scene wouldn't touch the body when they found it –"

"Mr. Harcourt," he'd growled, "do you want to become an Auror or not? If you do, you'll have to rid yourself of the notion that the High Clan is in any way above the law…"

Harcourt looked genuinely shocked. "But sir!"

"Listen to me, boy, no accident of birth is going to convince me that a Malfoy is in any way better or worse than a muggle. No one – not even old Brandon himself – can simply kill someone like they did here and expect to walk away from it. They may think themselves superior to anyone else on this earth, but they're no different from the rest of us – they eat and they piss and they die just like any other men."

Now the boy was offended.

"And why are you so defensive? I thought you didn't even like the bloody Malfoy."

"I don't," Harcourt said, rather lamely. "But whether you love or fear or despise them, you don't say such things about them. It's just not done…"

Yes, the boy had a serious problem, one that would definitely have to be overcome if he was to be any good as an Auror. It was a pity, really, because he was one of the more promising apprentices Moody'd had for quite a while.

The huddled, useless crowd of onlooking Aurors and medical personnel and other miscellaneous bystanders parted to reveal a skinny, dark haired boy with piercing black eyes – the resemblance to the victim was unmistakable – and Harcourt straightened his face and his back to greet him. "Snape," he said coolly. "I hadn't thought to see you so early."

Young Snape eyed him sullenly, but offered no obvious disrespect. Evidently there was still some respect left, despite the direction of Harcourt's choices. "I received a message," he said flatly. "News and rumours travel swiftly through Knocturn Alley – especially of events of such –" he raised a brow – "public significance."

His calm was amazing. His father was lying horribly dead not ten feet away and he was displaying nothing other than a vague irritation and distaste. Even the Malfoy brothers – those two juvenile murderers – had been too rigidly impassive at their father's funeral, it had been possible to see and sense their grief and anger.

"So, boy," he growled, "are you willing to cooperate in the Ministry investigation, or are you like Harcourt here," he jerked his head towards his apprentice, "who believes in High Clan tradition and vengeance rights?"

Snape bowed his head and looked back at his father's corpse – his eyes seemingly fixed on the three deep cuts slashed over the heart. Then he turned back to Moody, face impassive. "Leave it, sir. There's nothing to be gained, raking over old feuds and hatreds…"

Moody was a man who placed great importance on first impressions. And his first impression of Severus Snape – the too quiet, too sly boy who cared more for the family's reputation than his father's death – would stay with him for more than thirty years.

But then…

Snape smiled suddenly. "Let the Malfoy have their day."

And that smile, and those words, put the final seal on it.

* * *

Other than Snape himself and the two perpetrators, Dominic de Sauvigny was the first of the students to learn of Augustus Snape's fate. He'd had the bad luck to be sneaking back to the dorm after a late night with his Ravenclaw girlfriend – Isabelle Clearwater, of the Suffolk Clearwaters – and had met Severus along the way. In a splendid mood, he'd hailed the other boy cheerfully, but had somehow found himself pinned up against the wall, wand digging into his throat.

"You parasitic mongrel," Snape had hissed viciously, his eyes quite mad, "I should send you back to him in pieces…"

Dominic gaped up at him, astonished at the completely uncharacteristic outburst. However, despite his complete willingness to shelter under his cousin's wing, the Hat had not placed him in Slytherin for nothing, and in seven years he had learned quite a lot that Dumbledore had never meant to be in the curriculum. A twist, a flick of the wrist, and a hearty shove later – he outweighed the other boy by a good ten kilograms – and he sent Snape staggering back, giving himself room and time to bring his wand up just in case. He was not a brilliant dueler like Snape, or like Lucius, but he knew enough to defend himself, and he had practiced against him often.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" he snarled. "Send me back where?"

Snape eyed him a bit more cautiously then, his eyes losing a little of their madness but none of their hatred or wariness. Finally, as Dominic's grip on his wand whitened and his breath quickened in what was almost terror, he saw the sanity return to Snape's eyes, and the recognition. Almost mutually, they decided to abandon their confrontation, and then continued on their way without looking back.

The next morning, he mentioned the matter to Lucius before they went down to breakfast. Normally Dominic preferred to have as little to do with Lucius as possible, finding Luc far less capricious and more approachable than his elder brother, but Luc was nowhere to be found.

"Is there something wrong with Snape?" he asked Lucius, getting straight to the point as he still preferred, even now. "He tried to kill me this morning."

Lucius laughed. Carefully fixing his school tie, the elder Malfoy admired himself in the mirror. "He's never at his best in the mornings, you know that."

"This was a bit more than a bad mood, Malfoy. He pinned me up against the wall and threatened to send me back to someone or somewhere in pieces."

Satisfied with his appearance, Lucius gave an approving nod. His eyes shifted to meet Dominic's. "Did he? Rather extravagant of him…"

"I want to know if he had reason," Dominic insisted. "What happened last night?"

A slow, infinitely satisfied smile curled Lucius' lips – a crueler, more feral smile than Dominic had ever before seen, or wanted to see again. He shivered, suddenly, and wished that he had never asked such a foolish question. "Don't worry about it –" he began, but Lucius shook his head.

"No, cousin; you're old enough and strong enough to know the truth. If you haven't heard already, you'll hear it this morning at breakfast…"

"What?" Dominic demanded, irritated now.

"Augustus Snape," said the new Lord of Clan Malfoy, with great nonchalance. "It seems he ran afoul of something even more poisonous than he in Knockturn Alley…"

Dominic swallowed, knowing damned well what – who – the older Snape had run afoul of. "Oh." For the life of him, he could not come up with anything more sophisticated. "Ah. Well, that would explain it…"

"I would recommend, though," Lucius said neutrally, "that you stay away from Sev for a while…" he raised an eyebrow. "Just until he cools down."

"Right." He would make damned sure that he stayed away from Snape, no matter how long it took him to recover his composure. He had no wish to be on the receiving end of the morning's madness again, even if Lucius seemed to find it all vastly amusing.

There were some times when he wondered whether it would have been better for him had he gone to Beauxbatons after all, instead of insisting on Hogwarts. Certainly it would have been much safer –

He would never have met Lucius, or Snape, or Lestrange or any of the other leaders of Slytherin, and he would never have gotten involved in the cutthroat politics or the cruel, vicious games.

But he would never have met Luc, either.

Every man had a price, and Dominic's was his dream of the ambitious, brilliant leader who would take the House of de Sauvigny to heights unseen and undreamed of. For that dream, for that man, Dominic would overlook any sin, excuse any crime…

* * *

By breakfast, most of Slytherin House had either heard the rumours or had received word from their parents, and so were giving the three main participants of the tale a very wide berth. The rest of the school, whose rumour network was less efficient, learned of the shocking torture-murder from the Daily Prophet, where 'Prominent Death Eater Murdered in Knockturn Alley' was blazoned across the front page in bold face type, and a suitably gruesome picture put the finishing touches on a masterwork of responsible journalism.

Severus Snape was left to wonder whether if there was any truth to the rumour that Marcus – and now Lucius – Malfoy held the controlling block of shares in the newspaper. It was the only thing that could possibly explain that headline, and the story that made no mention of Malfoy involvement, blood feuds or anything else that in any way resembled the truth. But even despite that, it seemed that everyone knew who had killed his father, and why – rumour was like that, in the wizarding world. It sped through Knockturn and Diagon Alley and the drawing rooms of the rich and powerful, through the quarters of the house elves that wizards so took for granted and the corridors of Ministry power, and through the common rooms and dormitories of Hogwarts in some kind of mass human osmosis.

No one said anything, of course. It was not the Slytherin way, and the rest of the school was too intimidated by him – with, as always, the inevitable exception of Black, Potter, Lupin and their nonentity of a fourth. But even the so-called Marauders held back, and for that he supposed he was indebted to Black, who for all his insolent disregard for his heritage at least knew better than to mention the matter at such a sensitive time.

In public, at least.

* * *

"Is it true, then?" Pettigrew asked, rubbing his hands gleefully together. "The old Slytherin lords are killing each other off?"

Sirius eyed the smaller boy balefully. "It's not funny, Wormtail. Snape was high in Voldemort's graces – he shouldn't have been so easy to get to."

"And how," James drawled, eyes dancing, "do you know that, Padfoot?"

"How do you think I know?" Sirius scowled. "My esteemed father still cherishes hopes that I'll come to heel –"

James snorted, but Sirius continued over him. "And so tries to take me in hand, whenever he emerges from his drunken stupor long enough to remember his responsibilities. Last holidays, we had a delightful father and son chat…"

Remus winced at the vicious contempt in Sirius' voice. "So what are you saying?" he asked, hoping to divert his friend's attention from his father. "The Malfoy brothers pulled off a brilliant coup?"

"No. I'm saying they were allowed to."

Lily had been listening silently, taking everything in, but at that she drew in a deep, shocked breath. "Then that means…"

"Yes, it's very likely."

"But…but what about Kate?" Her green eyes were worried, and James took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "If they have joined, then…"

Sirius shrugged. "What about Kate? She's only a mudblood…" He raised an ironic brow. "You don't think Lucius would value her above his vengeance?"

There were times when Sirius' heritage revealed itself in more than his magnificent arrogance and charismatic presence.

* * *

"Well, Kate, your Malfoy protector outdid himself last night."

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, Kate turned with a wry smile to meet Snape. "Yes, I know. I gather everyone knows…"

They were standing on the parapets of the castle, looking out over the familiar view. The wind was cold and biting and the sunshine was watery at best, but it was better than being inside, where the air was thick with intrigue and rumour. "One of the many dubious virtues of our world. Everybody knows everybody else's business."

Kate raised a brow at the use of _our_, but let it pass. "I would have appreciated more warning, though."

He turned to her then, watching her intently. "You did not know of it?"

"No. I would not have approved, had I known – I don't know what price Lucius paid, but it was entirely too high."

"So it was only Lucius, then, who paid the price?" His voice was politely skeptical. "I find it hard to believe that they did not act together on this…"

Her lips tightened. "I assure you, Snape, that as of this morning there was no Mark on Luc's arm."

"That is no indication that there was no price on my father's life. Payment can be deferred…and made in different coin. You know that He aspires to ultimate power, and you know how He intends to claim it."

"A pureblood paradise? Yes, I've heard the propaganda." Kate's voice was tight, defiant.

"Then you know what He will demand of Luc. There will be no allowances for soul bonds." As always, Snape's voice was dark, rich, and persuasive – such a shocking contrast to his physical appearance.

"It _will not_ come to that."

"It is inevitable. Luc is a Slytherin, Kate. He is ambitious, and he intends to come out on top, no matter what it takes – you know what he has been promised. He sealed it when he chose vengeance –" she whirled around to leave, to flee the insidious voice of what she knew to be truth, but he put out a hand and grabbed her arm, swinging her around to face him again. "If you stay with him you will die. He will sacrifice you to his ambition, Kate – he'll build his dream of the House on your blood…"

She turned on him, wrenching her arm out of his grasp. "I will not listen to your _lies_ any longer, Snape; _let me go!"_ She fled down the stairs, the sound of her clattering footsteps echoing from the stairwell.

As he turned back to look over the view from the castle walls once more, he was smiling – a very satisfied, very cruel smile.

* * *

A/N – Thanks to all my reviewers. Next chapter, I promise, the Quidditch match. 


	16. 1977 Quidditch Cup Grand Final

A/N – The Quidditch Match! Goodness me, but it's taken a long time to get to this. Most of the delay on this chapter was entirely due to intimidation – I wasn't at all sure that I could write coherent quidditch. But here it is. And here, also for the first time, we see 'Lord Voldemort' at height of his power. I've never tried this before, but he must have been imposing to get so many to follow him, surely.

Disclaimer – Any original characters or elements are mine. Canon belongs to JK Rowlings and ors. I am making no profit from this.

* * *

CHAPTER 16 – The 1977 Quidditch Cup Grand Final

* * *

"_Well, well, well, the Brothers Malfoy. What have I done to deserve such an honour?" The self-styled Lord Voldemort reclined in a throne-like chair and received them as if granting an audience. Jumped up half-blood or not, no one could deny he had a magnificent presence… _

"_We've come to demand our rights." Standing alone before the much older, much more imposing wizard, seventeen year old Lucius did not seem to have the right to demand anything._

_As always, Luc stood in the background and observed._

_Lord Voldemort laughed, and Lucius' pale figure seemed to dwindle into insignificance. "You have come to _demand_ your rights?" he repeated, mocking him. "Why do you not simply take them, Malfoy Lord?"_

"_Snape killed my father on your orders." Though he drew himself up, Lucius had lost too much presence. "If I thought I could kill you, I would have tried –"_

"_And died." Though still amused, there was a tightness around Voldemort's eyes now. Perhaps he was not so sure of Lucius' caution?_

"_Perhaps," Lucius allowed. "But I will settle for Augustus Snape – or at least the promise of non-interference, and no retaliation."_

"_He is one of my most loyal servants. What weregild will you give me for him?"_

_Luc smiled grimly. He and Lucius had disagreed over this meeting, Luc arguing that they were entitled to their vengeance and should simply take it, Lucius advocating caution; they were only seventeen, and unable to take on the whole Death Eater army by themselves._

_Both of them had known a meeting would always come down to this one point – what price were they willing to pay for the vengeance that should have been theirs by right? Lucius was willing to pay. Luc was not._

_The bargaining – heavily slanted against them – began._

* * *

The day of the 1977 Quidditch Cup final dawned bright and clear, the perfect weather conditions evident as Kate glanced out the window of Luc's room. Despite her doubts and fears, she was caught up in the rising excitement that infected the school – it was perfect Seeking weather, and she knew instinctively that today's match would go down in myth and legend as one of the great matches of Hogwarts' history.

Later, she would look back at that excitement in bitter amusement. If only she'd known just how right she was…

But shadows and bitter irony were far in the future, and today nothing obscured the excitement of being young, and competitive, and certain of victory. She smiled, the thin, crooked smile common to all Slytherins, and went back to the bed, shaking her sleepy lover awake. Luc was never at his best in the mornings, preferring to lie in bed as long as possible.

"Come on, Luc, it's six-thirty. Get up – we need to get ready." She grabbed hold of the blankets and pulled them off him before he could react, and then grabbed a pitcher of ice-cold water she'd placed by the bedside for just this purpose and held it over him threateningly. Just before she tipped the water over a very sensitive part of his anatomy he groaned and rolled out of bed, tumbling to the floor in a gangling, cursing heap.

Sleepy silver eyes glowered at her, and she smiled sweetly at him before tossing him a pair of boxers. "Get dressed, and we'll go down to the Quidditch pitch and check it out."

He sighed. "Merlin's Balls, Kate, but you're a bossy wench. The game doesn't start until ten."

"That means we have three and a half hours to prepare for it," she said brightly, knowing it would infuriate him. He tossed her another dark look, but held his peace and crossed to his wardrobe.

She was already dressed in the green and silver thick woolen Quidditch robes. But Luc pulled on a black shirt, trousers and robe, preferring to make a ritual of stepping into his uniform – he swore that it brought him better luck, and Kate knew better than to call him on it. Who knew? Perhaps it did – or perhaps he simply believed that it did.

As they stepped out of the room together, they found that quite a number of other Slytherins were also up and about, already dressed in their team colours, discussing strategy and the game and their chances of thrashing the Gryffindors. It was as if she'd stepped into a completely different common room from what it had been yesterday, where all the talk had been hushed speculation about Augustus Snape's death and how it would change the political landscape. It was not often the cynical, sometimes desperately sophisticated Slytherins were so swept off their feet by excitement – it seems they were just as susceptible to Quidditch fever as the rest of the school.

It was oddly reassuring.

Lucius was there, cool and collected, his long white hair pulled back into a braid that hung halfway down his back. Kate had always thought his hair a ridiculous affectation, but Lucius was quite proud of it, and evidence of such vanity made him seem more human, less perfect than his carefully constructed public image.

He smiled when he saw Luc's casual clothes and his rumpled hair. "Ah, our star keeper. I don't suppose you're in any mood to go over more strategy before the game…"

Luc scowled. "We've been over it a thousand times before, Lucius. There's no need to go over it again."

Kate grinned at the way Lucius pretended to consider the matter, baiting Luc, who happily ignored it and went to sit down instead. They chatted a little, watching as the rest of the house assembled in the common room, clad in green and silver, talking animatedly and waving their hands about, demonstrating manoeuvres and gesticulating excitedly. It was only ever on the days of Quidditch matches that Kate truly felt an accepted part of Slytherin – much, she had found, could be forgiven if she caught the Snitch. Even if it was only for one day, the sense of fellowship was heady; today, in the greatest Quidditch game of the year, she could feel the magic building all around her, creating an illusion of what it must be like for Lily in Gryffindor all the time.

She was rarely jealous of her more spirited, more independent, more beautiful elder sister. But there were times when she wished that she, too, had been sorted and accepted into Gryffindor…

Just then Lucius, with his ridiculous hair, made a snide comment in Latin to Brandon Avery who accused him in Greek of intellectual snobbery, and then asked sweetly (in English) whether or not it was true that Sirius Black had warned him off his cousin Narcissa. Rayden Lestrange, who had once had a running rivalry with Lucius for the top spot in Slytherin, smiled even more sweetly and made a remark about kissing cousins that narrowed Lucius' eyes dangerously, and James Weatherby, an industrious entrepreneur, slyly insinuated that he had 'something' that would put Black out of commission for days – untraceable, tasteless, and only fifty galleons. Snape, whose skills were far superior, sneered at him and sent him on his way, not wanting any competition with his own side-business of supply.

And Kate knew that no matter what Lily had found in Gryffindor, it could not replace this.

* * *

By nine-thirty, the Quidditch stadium was packed with students singing team songs, sporting their house colours – or those of their preferred favourite – and waving flags and banners, already forming into the murmuring single organism that was a crowd, and could so easily become a mob. The crowd always became fiercely partisan when Slytherin and Gryffindor clashed, and today the competitiveness that so fired up the players had spread wholesale throughout the spectators.

At two minutes to ten, when the teachers took their seats and the flying instructor entered carrying the leather case containing the quaffles, bludgers and the snitch, the excited hum rose to a dull roar, and when the two captains finally led their teams out from their respective tunnels, the roar rose to an almost unbelievable crescendo. It echoed in Luc's ears, firing his blood to a primitive throb of excitement.

He could see the others also reacting to the primal thrill – Lucius was gripping his broom tightly, Snape's lips were tightly compressed, and Kate was grinning fiercely, her Slytherin tendencies brought to the fore by her excitement. This was what they had fought and schemed for, a spot in the finals team; and this one, single game was what they had trained and trained and trained for, often long into the night –

Not for a battered, dingy looking trophy, but for what it represented.

"And here they are," came the strictly neutral Ravenclaw announcer's excited, rapid fire voice as they mounted their brooms and began circling the pitch, waving to the crowd when their names were mentioned. "The Slytherin team: keeper Luc Malfoy, with an astounding ninety percent blocking rate for the season; beaters Severus Snape and Darius Flint, two of the most ruthless offensive players of the last three years; chasers Shan Andahni, captain Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, the most celebrated trio in recent Quidditch history; and last but definitely not least, Kate Evans, the Slytherin Seeker, who's won the last eight games in a row for Slytherin…"

The crowd cheered or booed as their preferences dictated, and now it was the Gryffindor team's turn to mount their brooms and begin circling.

"The Gryffindor team: keeper Caine de Sauvigny, Luc's younger half-brother but definitely not his inferior, with a blocking rate of eighty-five percent; beaters Connor McGregor and Sirius Black, who've knocked twelve players unconscious this year alone; Liam Finnigan, Alison Hartley and Lily Evans as chasers – these three are magic to watch, people, absolute magic – and captain and Seeker James Potter, the best flier to come out of Hogwarts in four generations…"

The stadium looked as if it were in the middle of a bizarre red, gold, green and silver blizzard, and the noise was deafening; the announcer, even with the aid of a magically enhanced microphone, had to cast a Sonorous charm on himself to be heard.

There was a series of last, unheard instructions from McReadie, the flying instructor, before he opened his leather case and unleashed the bludgers, flung the quaffles up in the air, and released the tiny winged snitch.

The game began.

* * *

"And it's Hartley who gets the first touch of the ball, passing to Finnigan who takes it forward himself – oh! Flint! Flint sends a bludger whizzing past Finnigan and almost smashing his broom, and Finnigan loses the quaffle to Narcissa Black who takes it back for the Slytherins…"

Kate hovered high on the fringes of the match, her trained eyes always searching for the flickering metallic gleam of the snitch. Usually, in such games as these, it would not appear for some time yet; grand finals were seldom won so easily. But even so, it never paid to take such things for granted. Quidditch was anything but a rational game.

"…passes to Lucius Malfoy, who passes to Andahni who _throws_ himself between Hartley and Lily Evans, and passes back to Malfoy, who goes for the goal – oh, de Sauvigny! De Sauvigny catches it one-handed and tosses it back to Finnigan…"

To some people, the mess of players and balls on the field may have looked like absolute chaos. But Kate could see the order in it, see the careful strategies and counter-tactics and the practiced manoeuvres of two highly disciplined teams at the very peak of their abilities. To Kate, Quidditch was an escape from Slytherin politics – it was _pure. _Fourteen players. Score as many points as you can until the Seeker catches the snitch; sometimes the Seeker won it for you, and sometimes not even the most spectacular catch could make up the points deficit. But out on the Quidditch pitch, there were no other pressures than the immediate ones of the game…

"Snape sends a mighty bludger whizzing past Black's ear – he ducks! – and almost hits Potter instead; Black sends one right back at him but Snape dodges in a very nice piece of flying…"

Yes, Black and Snape were actively trying to murder each other by bludger. When Gryffindor and Slytherin played, the teachers confiscated their wands before they were allowed onto the pitch; a lesson learned years ago after a particularly vicious game filled with invisible hexes and all kinds of magical skullduggery.

"Finnigan to Lily Evans Evans, Evans to Finnigan, Hartley runs decoy and circles under Narcissa Black's broom, Finnigan to Hartley to Evans, Malfoy charges towards Evans who almost loses the ball but holds on; Shan Andahni and Narcissa Black ram into her from each side, sandwiching her between them – Foul! Surely that was a foul! Come on, ref; what's going on – that was a foul!"

There was an animal roar of either disapproval or approbation, and Lily and Narcissa – two confident, dominant females – turned on each other and the claws came out. Finnigan, innocent in the ways of women, tried to break them up; older and wiser, Lucius, Shan and Black simply watched, fascinated and intrigued. While the players and the crowd were distracted by the catfight, Kate saw a metallic fluttering out of the corner of her eye, and turned her head very, very slowly, so as not to draw Potter's attention. But it was too late – he'd seen it already – and they both revved their brooms up to maximum speed and took off after it, threading through the hovering players who turned, startled, to watch, soaring high up into the air above the pitch, the wind tearing at their hair and robes. Up, up, up and then down, down, down they went, skimming the ground at almost two hundred miles an hour, Kate edging out a few inches in front of Potter, fingers outstretched…

"_Look out!" _Flint shouted, diving down towards them and leaning far out from his broom, his powerful arm smashing his bat into a bludger that would have caught her right in the ribs and deflecting it away. He couldn't stop his momentum and they all went down, Kate and Potter and Flint as well, ending up in a tumbled heap of limbs and robes and brooms. Kate picked herself up immediately and looked in surprise at Flint, who had always hated her, but he refused to meet her eyes and so remounted his broom and took off into the sky as soon as possible.

By then, of course, the snitch was gone.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day, kids," the commentator joked, after Narcissa and Lily were finally separated, Narcissa with a black eye where Lily had punched her and Lily with four vicious scratches down the side of her face. There was a small pause as the captains wasted some time before the restart – both teams being in the wrong – allowing their players to catch their breath, and for Kate and Potter to regain their positions.

The game began again.

"This time it's Andahni, zipping past Hartley, completely outmanoeuvring Finnigan, passing to Narcissa Black who ducks, avoiding what would have been a nasty bludger from Connor McGregor, and then zooms straight for Caine de Sauvigny and the goal – she goes left, oh it's a feint! She goes right! Caine de Sauvigny is left completely open and it's ten points to Slytherin!"

The green and silver sections of the crowd roared triumphantly. Lucius slapped Narcissa on the back, grinning fiercely. With her cheeks flushed from exertion and excitement and the beginnings of a black eye, Narcissa was no longer the Slytherin Ice Queen but an excited, laughing almost-woman, more beautiful now than she had ever been before.

Caine threw the quaffle back into the pitch, aiming for Lily, but a black blur shot past her and she drew up sharply to avoid it. The hesitation cost her, and Shan swooped in and intercepted it one-handed, swinging his broom sharply around to throw it to Lucius, but he seemed to fold in on himself, fingers spasmodically dropping the ball as he gasped and wheezed for breath that wouldn't come.

"Oh, that was a nasty one! Sirius Black smashed a bludger right into Andahni's diaphragm – that's gotta hurt, boys and girls. But look – Alison Hartley leans down on her broom and picks up the lost quaffle, whizzes past Snape, dives under Flint, Lucius Malfoy is speeding after her but she's got too much of a lead. There's no one but the keeper home in front of the Slytherin goal, can Hartley outwit Luc Malfoy? She zigs, she zags, but he follows her every movement – she goes down and left, and passes to Finnigan who comes up on the inside and zooms past her and it's Finnigan… Finnigan… FINNIGAN! I DON'T BELIEVE IT, FINNIGAN! GRYFFINDOR HAS LEVELLED THE SCORE!"

This time the red and gold section of the crowd roared and cheered and gibbered. Kate thought she saw a fluttering near the north tower, but when she went closer to investigate it was only a moth. Luc caught her eye and grinned fiercely; sweat dampening his hair and streaking his face.

The game continued on in this fashion, every goal hard won, every possession hotly contested. The chasers zipped in and out at ridiculously high speeds, pulling dizzying aerial manoeuvres and passing and catching as quickly and as crisply as they could. The beaters cheerfully sent bludgers whizzing, aiming to incapacitate, injure, or at least distract the best players of the opposite team; their victims either dodged them at the last minute or received painful bruises and a hard earned lesson to watch _everything. _The two keepers were under siege, constantly having to defend and block the chasers' swift, relentless onslaught - it was a stunning spectacle of skill, speed, strength and sheer determination, and the crowd loved it.

However, underneath the legitimate moves and concerns of Quidditch, there was a sharper edge, a darker undertone – even if no one else did, she saw Snape and Black smashing bludgers back and forth at each other with all their strength; Lucius concentrating and mumbling under his breath, giving Snape's bludgers assistance; Narcissa and Lily ramming into each other as often and as viciously as they could; Luc's nod to Flint just before he sent a bludger right towards the unsuspecting Caine, his half-brother…

And then she saw James Potter dive to his right, and she followed. The crowd saw them too, and cheered; here was what they had all come to watch, the Seekers' Duel that would decide the match.

"Potter and Kate Evans have seen the snitch! They've seen it! This is it, folks, this is the real thing – Potter heads towards the grandstands with Evans in hot pursuit…"

She could see it now, hovering some twenty metres away, taunting them both with its fickle golden promise. As she once more pushed the broom to its maximum speed, time seemed to thicken and slow, sound echoed oddly in her ears, and her heartbeat raced frantically in her ears. This, this was what she lived for in Quidditch – these few glorious seconds of speed, of freedom, where there was no nagging worry, no fear, nothing but single-minded determination to catch the snitch.

"They're neck and neck now, both of them pushing their very expensive brooms – new model Nimbus 500s, for all you discerning buyers – to the absolute limit. They're almost there…almost there…almost…it moved! The snitch is off, people, and the chase is on!"

Potter was a spectacular flyer. He jerked his broom ninety degrees to the left at more than two hundred miles an hour and made it look smooth, when an amateur flyer might have lost control at such high momentum and been thrown right off. But Kate followed him, her face set and, had she but known it, almost grim; all those Slytherins with their focus fixed on her, cheering so loudly for her – they had forgotten she wasn't pureblooded. They'd forgotten everything except that she was their Seeker, and if she caught this snitch it would catapult them all into immortality.

"Oh, what amazing flying! I've never seen anything like it! This game will be remembered for a long, long time…"

St. Crispin's day. Kate smiled. And then her smile vanished – as did all irrelevant thoughts, Shakespearean or no – as she and Potter zoomed just above the crowd in the grandstands, so close to the spectators she could probably reach out and touch one if she wanted. The wind of their passage whipped behind them, snatching off hats and upsetting robes and drinks and small pets. The snitch went high, and they followed it; it went low and they dived even further after it, actually mowing down a group of startled first years rather than lose speed and time going around them.

They were only Hufflepuffs, anyway.

Down through the maze of girders and beams and ropes that made up the underbelly of the stands, the constant manoeuvring requiring split second reflexes and absolute, diamond hard concentration. Up circling one of the towers, zigging and zagging according to some diabolically erratic whim, always just one step ahead of them, just out of the range of their grasping fingertips. Straight into the still interplay of the other players on the pitch, who were still locked into a struggle of their own, desperately trying to score enough points for a lead if and when the snitch was caught. Kate sent her broom sideways, bumping into Potter and sending him off balance and off course –

She was a Slytherin, wasn't she?

And straight into a bludger's path, before Black shouted a warning and he ducked. There was a shocked reassessment on Potter's face; perhaps she was more than just Lily's sister to him now? She thought she could hear Black swearing furiously, but she ignored it; it had no relevance to her situation now. She could hear the crowd like waves in a seashell, but every cell in her body – every last ounce of ice-cold Slytherin determination – was focused on catching the snitch.

* * *

But Luc saw Black's furious, twisted face. Luc followed the line of his hot, angry eyes and saw him pick up the bat and deliberately take aim.

Luc saw him whisper under his breath as he smashed the bludger, sending it after Kate.

Luc cried out a warning, knowing that Kate would not hear it.

* * *

Close now…neck and neck with Potter, both of them trying to knock each other off their brooms, vying for that last ounce of speed and distance; it was then she heard the unmistakable whistling sound of a bludger coming up behind her, and she tossed herself to her right, almost losing control and going into a spin, before she used the momentum to go under the broom and come up on the other side.

Potter shot ahead, and she cursed and set herself to catch up once more.

* * *

Luc looked on in horror, taking his eyes away from the game, as Sirius Black, a third cousin on his father's mother's side, once more took aim at Kate. He shouted and held out a hand – as if he could do anything, without a wand – as the _crack_ sounded, the perfect sound of a sweet, flush hit, and a second, even more determined bludger was set on her trail.

Suddenly, his blood ran cold. He knew – he knew – that something terribly wrong was about to occur…

He shook himself out of his daze and kicked his broom into high gear, taking off towards Kate. Indignant shouting and puzzled calls floated after him, but he ignored them, heading towards the one thing that truly mattered to him in this world.

* * *

"But what's this? Luc Malfoy has abandoned his post as keeper and gone off to help the Seekers! Gryffindor score! What on earth is going on?"

* * *

She could sense something coming up behind her, could hear an insistent buzzing in her ears, as if a well-known voice was trying to catch her attention, but she was so close…

* * *

"Kate! Bludger! Sweet fucking Lady, Kate, listen to me! Kate! Duck!"

By now Lucius and Snape had caught on and were following him determinedly, but Kate was not listening. He continued to speed towards the two engrossed Seekers, but he knew – deep down, instinctively, he knew – that the bludger would get there before them.

He had no wand. He had very little wandless skill and that only when he was calm and collected. There was nothing he could do except watch in agonized disbelief…

"_There's something about her, Lucius…something that could burn, given a chance…"_

"_Under my protection, no one will dare harm you."_

"_I will protect you for as long as I must. I swore it. Nothing will ever harm you, love, believe me…"  
_

* * *

Her fingers had almost closed around it, she was so close that she could touch the feathery, metal wings and feel them vibrating harshly. And then there was a sickening dull thud and her head snapped forward, pain exploding from the back of her skull, and there was confusion – the sky? Why was it upside down and spiraling closer and closer? – as she slowly (almost in slow motion, really) lost her grip on the broom and fell.

* * *

There was a heartbeat of shocked, roaring silence.

"_KATE!"_

* * *

"…Kate Evans has just copped a vicious bludger to the head. Whew, Sirius Black really did hit that one hard. And now boyfriend Luc Malfoy to the rescue – spiraling down to catch her before she hits the ground – oh, this does not look good at all…"

* * *

He halted her fall some five metres from the ground. Gathering her close he set the broom down and lay her down on the ground, frantically calling her name, checking her pulse, seeking desperately for any sign of life.

Her face was so very, very white, and blood was trickling slowly from her nostrils.

A pale hand gripped his shoulder, framed by a silver and green sleeve, and pulled him gently back; he shook it off, but Lucius insisted. "She's alive, Luc. She's breathing. Look." He guided Luc's hands to her throat and forced them to stay there, to be patient, until he could feel the thready, erratic pulse. "She's only unconscious."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Slytherin players ranged all around him, a pureblooded honour guard, blocking the outside world from seeing Luc Malfoy behaving so emotionally. Now, they came through for Kate. Now they honoured her – he looked down at her right hand, limp, open, and empty.

She hadn't even caught the snitch.

* * *

MacReadie and the new school healer, Madame Pomfrey, raced onto the pitch with their bags in their hands and their hearts in their throats. It was one thing to joke about players dying during Quidditch, but it was quite another to see something like this happen right before their eyes. And at such a game, too – the Slytherin fans had seen Sirius Black deliberately aim that bludger, and were all but rioting in the stands, the excited roar replaced by an angry, threatening rumble. Already they were throwing food; soon it would be punches and hexes.

The players themselves were no better – the Slytherins were gathered around their fallen Seeker, and they, too, were muttering and throwing dark stares at the Gryffindor players gathered on the other side of the pitch. Lily Evans was trying desperately to get to her sister, but the Slytherins wouldn't let her in. Madame Pomfrey gathered her up, and marched up to the green and silver knot. Lucius Malfoy saw them coming; she could see the deliberate choice he made to let them through, and wondered what she would have done if he'd decided to exclude them…

She squeezed her way past them and into the centre of the circle, where Luc Malfoy, whom she'd always thought cynical, amoral and utterly heartless, was holding onto his muggleborn (girlfriend? Protégée? Sex slave? There were many different versions of the tale) Seeker as if he would never let her go.

"Come on, Malfoy, let her go. She needs immediate medical attention, and she can't get it if you're holding onto her like that. You know you can trust me, I won't do anything to harm her…"

Her own entreaties had no effect, but Lucius reached down and gripped his brother's shoulder, murmured something in the other's ear; slowly, reluctantly, Luc loosened his hold and let her see the girl's condition.

When they floated her away on a stretcher, her neck in a magical brace and Lily glued to her side, Madame Pomfrey looked back one last time, and saw something that, after this day, no one else would ever, ever see again –

Luc's face was open, naked, his hot, terrifying hatred laid bare for the entire world to see as he stood up slowly and his eyes focused on Sirius Black. The Slytherins were too slow – or too stunned at what they saw – to stop him, before he relinquished all caution, all forethought, and all considerations of Slytherin and High Clan behaviour…

It took Dumbledore and the Slytherin head of house to stop him from killing Black. It took Lucius and a ringing slap to bring him back to a semblance of composure. And it took two hours and one of Snape's more potent potions to still the shaking in his hands…

* * *

James Potter caught the snitch, winning the game for Gryffindor by 210-60. But by then, the Slytherins couldn't care less.

* * *

A/N – A very big thank you to all my wonderful readers, whether reviewers or lurkers. Thank you for staying with this fic, through two years and more. Next chapter – Snape's infamous revenge. 


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer – I don't own any of the canon characters or concepts. This was not written for profit. Don't sue.

* * *

Chapter 17

* * *

_Midnight. _

_The cold white moonlight crept across the stone floor of the Infirmary, illuminating the shadows and the indeterminate grey spaces – here, in this place, long after the echoes of the Quidditch match had faded, there remained only ghosts of old injuries, and ashes of old grievances. _

_Kate lay in the limbo between awareness and true unconsciousness, the clamouring pain drawing her back from the coma. She was partly aware of her surroundings, but the soporifics in the potions they'd force-fed her blurred her senses, turned the light supernova-bright and the shadows terrifyingly dark. _

_She knew that Luc was no longer with her, but there was someone else in the room – _

_Alarm sparked, adrenaline tried and failed to penetrate the drug-induced fog. _

"_It's only me," Snape said dryly, his rich voice pragmatic and matter-of-fact. "Pomfrey sent Luc back to his own bed."_

_She let out an unconscious sigh of relief. Normally so careful in controlling her reactions, she was incredibly easy to read now. It had been a very long time since Snape had seen her display real emotion – idly, he noted her vulnerability, and wondered at the dosage that it had taken to create it. _

_She was lucky that Nott and the other die-hard muggle haters weren't here to see her like this. They could do her real harm. _

"_Did we…win?" she asked, her voice low, hoarse and slurred. _

_He laughed. "No. Black knocked you off your broom before you could catch the Snitch. For what it's worth, Potter caught it."_

_She tried to smile. _

"…_what…doing here…Snape?"_

"_I have a proposition for you."_

_Those clouded green eyes turned vaguely in his direction, her every thought laid bare for him to see. The sense of power was incredible. _

"_Luc almost killed Black today. His actions were seen and noted – they will be dissected in drawing rooms and secret meetings across Britain. They will show a boy who was far too vehement in his defense of his mudblood whore, and who lacks the proper control to conceal how important to him you are. He has revealed his one and only weakness and has displayed qualities that would severely displease the Dark Lord…"_

_She closed her eyes and turned her head away. But he continued on, using his voice, her confusion, and subtle tendrils of magical influence to weave a powerful deception, one that would have to last for the rest of her life. _

"_You understand, of course, that he cannot afford to displease the Dark Lord. His very survival depends on proving his worthiness to join the Death Eaters, and he cannot be worthy if he has a mudblood following at his heels. You are a serious liability to him, Kate; if you want him to live you have to let him go…"_

* * *

"_What do you mean, you're fucking sorry?"_ His voice cracked as it had not done since an excruciating fortnight when he was fourteen. "She died in your care. Why didn't you _do_ something?"

Madame Pomfrey stiffened at the furious accusations, shocked, hurt and more than a little afraid of Luc Malfoy's uncontrolled rage. "I did everything I could. But I can't work miracles, and I can't save everyone; quite simply, Mr. Malfoy, sometimes even the best healers can't do anything." And that was the harsh, brutal truth that lay behind her decision to leave the emergency unit at St. Mungo's and take up the far less demanding position at Hogwarts.

However, at seventeen Luc had yet to come up against the limitations of harsh reality. Flushed with the glorious, arrogance of youth, he had believed, even up until ten minutes ago, that his determination was enough to change the world, and reshape it to his own desires.

Now he knew better.

You can't save everyone. However, she had at least thought that she could save Kate – when she had last checked on the girl just after midnight, she'd been sleeping soundly, no sign of the deep, dangerous sleep that led to death…

What had gone wrong? What had she missed?

* * *

"…_Liar…" Kate whispered, fighting to keep her eyes open and fixed on her tormentor. _

"_You know I do not lie. You are Slytherin; you understand the reality of the situation. Luc is no fool, and yet, knowing the risk, he chose you over caution, over even his dreams and ambitions – unlike his father, I thought he would be reasonable. But he will never willingly abandon you, Kate, not even if it means his death. You must be the one to sever the connection…"_

* * *

"Dead?" Snape's voice hesitated, wavered, before he forced it steady. "But she was doing so well…"

"Yes," Luc said with deliberate, forced nonchalance. He fought desperately to conceal the cold, shocked numbness that had come over him when he realized that Kate was well and truly lost to him. "It seems she had some sort of a relapse, and simply slipped away while no one was watching." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm told that there was no pain, that she simply never regained consciousness."

Conscious of Snape's watching eyes, of the cool understanding, so different from others' cloying sympathy, he laughed roughly. "You must think me a complete fool," he said with deliberate humour.

Snape said nothing.

* * *

"_You can leave the country, disappear, and start another life far away from Voldemort and pureblood prejudice."_

"_He'll…follow…"_

"_No," Snape smiled triumphantly. "We'll fake your death. He'll grieve for a time, but then he'll move on and there will be nothing in this world that will ever stop him. He'll become everything that he was ever meant to be, because there'll be nothing holding him back…"_

_She watched him, trying to judge him with cloudy, failing eyes that still, despite everything, held that essential spark of determination that had allowed her to survive so long in Slytherin. But the drugs and the spell of his voice were too much – he could see it coming, see the capitulation in her eyes and the surrender of seven years of stubborn pride and loyalty – _

"_Very…well…"_

* * *

Lily was devastated. All her life, she had been one of two, Lily and Kate, united against anything and everything. Their years at Hogwarts had diluted that bond slightly, but the entry of others into their lives had not changed the fundamental bond between them – not even ancient, pureblooded Slytherin had been able to divide them.

No, it had taken Sirius Black and a moment of shocking, negligent recklessness to do that.

"Don't tell me that it was just a joke, James," she argued, her voice strained and her eyes fierce. "Don't say that it was just high spirits, a prank, an accident – I've stood by and said nothing all these years, but this time he's gone too far!"

"Merlin's Balls, Lily," Sirius said, his voice aggrieved. "I said I was sorry."

Incredulous, she turned on him, but the look in Remus' eyes stopped her. Suddenly deflated, stripped of all her hollow anger, all that was left was grief, and despair, and an empty space where Kate had always been.

"We're all sorry," Remus said, his voice compassionate. "You know we'll always be here for you."

"I know," she said wearily. "I know."

_

* * *

_

_Snape's contacts had responded incredibly quickly to his unconventional request, delivering the newly dead body of a young dark-haired girl-woman – he knew better than to ask who she was, and how she died – within three hours of his asking for it. _

_It was the work of some thirty minutes to transfigure it to an exact replica of Kate, down to the reluctantly displayed birthmark – having made her mind up, she did not hesitate in the execution of her flight. Then he lay the dead girl in Kate's place on the bed, and helped Kate walk out of Hogwarts, and into the arms of those who would take her far, far away. _

_She had asked him, retaining at least some of her hard-won caution, whether he truly intended to help her, or whether he would hand her over to be killed. Snape had paused, thinking on this – but truly, it had not occurred to him. As much as he wanted to make Luc pay, to watch him suffer, he would not take that revenge out on Kate – he approved of her, perhaps even liked her a little. _

_He did not truly wish to see her die, if it could be at all avoided._

_No, he would remove her influence from Luc's life. As long as she was gone, never to return, he would let her live…_

* * *

Lucius looked at his brother, fiercely composed, his face rigidly impassive and his eyes hooded and dead. There was no joy in him anymore, no innocence – the set of his mouth was almost grim.

Lucius remembered a long ago conversation, an attempt to bring home to Luc the true risk of investing too much of himself into something so fragile as a mudblood.

"_Do you remember when we were younger, how we spoke of ruling the High Clan between us?"_

"_Yes…" A laugh. "We could have dominated them all…"_

"_Could have. Would have. Is it not so important to you anymore, then?"_

_A shrug. A sigh. "Perhaps the driving ambition has lost a little of its urgency…" _

"_You've lost your focus." An accusation. _

"_No. I've found other priorities…"_

Don't give so much of yourself, brother. She will take everything you are, and then what will you have left when she is gone?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

They were standing before a small, discreet grave sheltered by a green, leafy tree. A simple tombstone:

Katherine Evans  
1960-1977

Beloved daughter and sister

Rest in peace

And nothing more.

"Do you know the true irony, Lucius?" Luc asked, his eyes focused on the sky, on the earth, on the trees, anywhere but on the grave. "Voldemort would have accepted my oath of neutrality. I could have kept Kate by removing myself from the fight completely. I was going to tell her, after the match –" His mouth twisted.

"And now?"

"Now no one will believe me if I refuse to take sides. I no longer have any excuses…"

Lucius was silent.

"When will you take the Mark, Lucius?"

"After we've finished Hogwarts. Snape will stand sponsor." Bleakly, Lucius smiled. "Fitting, is it not? Voldemort has an excellent sense of irony."

"I will stand with you."

Lucius turned to meet his brother's eyes. "Why?"

"Why not? There is nothing more to hold me back. It will be an immense advantage, when I begin my campaign to take over the de Sauvigny. If I stay clean enough publicly, then no suspicion will fall on me. They will remember the boy who once loved and lost a mudblood…"

* * *

A/N – Thanks to my reviewers. We are now very, very close to the end.


	18. Ambition Unleashed

A/N – The last chapter, barring an epilogue, which should be completed very soon. The very last segment of this chapter was a drabble named 'Hypocrisy', which I put in Speculations. I thought it fitting.

Thanks so much to all my reviewers.

Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter. I'm making no money from this story. Don't sue.

* * *

Chapter 18 – Ambition Unleashed

* * *

Time passed, and soon their years at Hogwarts, the last years of their childhood, came to an uneasy end. Some went to university, some went straight into rich, idle affluence, some went into jobs, and some went into Auror training.

Thirty of them went into the Death Eaters, among them Lucius Malfoy and his younger brother.

They were only eighteen years old.

_

* * *

_

_The Eating of Death was a sordid business, they found. Not that either of them had expected it to be glorious and romantic, but they'd thought, at the very least, that it would be more than dressing up and terrorizing muggles and muggle lovers – _

_Terrorising them. _

_Torturing and killing them._

_Indulging in every possible sin and depravity, answering to no law but Voldemort's law, restrained by nothing – not mercy, not conscience, and not simple human empathy. Service with the Dark Lord was a license to let loose all the demons and darkness that normally lay buried, hidden and denied, in the depths of the human soul. _

_The senseless killing revolted him. Every muggle girl or woman he killed reminded him of Kate, but he knew they were watching him, waiting for any signs of weakness or indecision…Grimly determined, he steeled himself to atrocity. _

_It was necessary:_

_For his continued survival_

_(A young mother, fiercely barring the door, screaming for her children to run)_

_For the assassinations he was slowly, carefully planning_

_(A green flash and a young, angelic boy stumbled and fell, his face contorted with terror)_

_For his dreams of a de Sauvigny future_

_(A young girl, helpless, vulnerable, turned to him, begging, her eyes clear, terrified green…)_

_For legitimacy._

* * *

Anton de Sauvigny, Dominic's father, arranged a position for Luc in the London branch of the House. This small mutiny against Anne's complete and utter ostracism of her elder, bastard son was a telling indication of the way the wind was blowing in the House – once, she might have been able to enforce her mandates. Once, she might have been able to keep Luc away from the family, and vice versa.

But not now.

Now, he was nineteen years old, and everything that Dominic and Michel had promised he would be – intelligent, pragmatic, financially perceptive, and above all, progressive. Too long had the House been ruled by conservative, Gryffindoric leaders who lacked the divine spark of madness and inspiration that had so characterized the first Jean-Marc, the great founder of the trading giant that had once spanned a whole empire. This bastard Malfoy, who was of the blood, but not raised within the limitations and conventions of the House – he could take them higher, and further, than they had ever dreamed of rising…

Foolishness, of course. It could never happen – there were too many others before him in the legitimate chain of succession. Aethan the current Lord, and Aethan's brothers Julian and Andreas. Their sons: James, Sean, Adam and Tarquin. Dominic and Michel.

And, finally, Caine himself: Caine, the golden, privileged youth who was so diametrically opposite to Luc, and whom the traditionalists regarded as the most promising leader of his generation. Caine, who hated Luc, and whom Luc hated just as bitterly.

Luc could only come to power if, and only if, all of those with a greater, legitimate claim were out of the way. Surely, that could never happen.

* * *

"_My lord," he spoke carefully, respectfully, his eyes lowered and his head bowed. "Have I your permission to pursue a personal vendetta?"_

"_You would seek to waste time on your petty affairs in my service, young Malfoy? You have not truly dedicated your whole being to our Cause?"_

_Greatly daring, he raised his eyes to Voldemort's red, hypnotic ones. In later years, after death and defeat, Voldemort would shed his human skin and begin to resemble the monster he truly was, but now, in the years of his true power, he was the charismatic leader of every pureblood legend, every glorious childhood stereotype… _

"_My lord," he answered cautiously, "everything I do is in the service of the Cause. But I believe I could be of far more service as the leader of the House of de Sauvigny, rather than a minor, bastard scion."_

_Thin, harsh fingers gripped his chin and forced his neck up to an extremely uncomfortable angle. "I've been watching you, young Malfoy. You killed all those green-eyed muggles without a single hint of remorse._ _I think that everything that you do is in your own service, not mine." A laugh, terrible in its amusement. "But it pleases me to watch you at work; you're so conscientiously thorough. Very well. I am curious to see how you will eliminate everyone who stands in your way while retaining your lily-white reputation. Your hypocrisy is always so very entertaining."_

_There was no hint of anger, or resentment, or anything but perfect calm as he bowed his head in acceptance of his lord's verdict. Voldemort watched, amused, as he left the room. The boy hated him, hated serving him, and hated everything he stood for. However, he would continue to cooperate so long as he held out the chance of achieving everything he had left to dream of…_

* * *

At twenty years old, in the first glorious flush of adulthood, Caine de Sauvigny – rich, handsome, and charismatic – should have been happy. He should have been wildly confident, convinced that he could shape the world to his own desires, take what life gave him and turn it into nothing but success. Instead, he walked with extreme caution, mistrusted everybody, including his own family, and was, under the bravado, secretly terrified.

He was beginning to feel hunted. His two uncles had died in an explosion at the London headquarters of the House. Months later, his closest companion and oldest friend Adam was killed in a disastrous Auror mission. Tarquin and his muggleborn boyfriend had overdosed on cocaine in their flat in Soho, sparking a furor over the unhealthy muggle influence on the youth of wizarding society. And finally, James and Sean had gone overseas one weekend and never returned.

The Aurors, with no time for a story of a cousinly feud, dismissed the attacks as coincidence. If, indeed, they were deliberate, then there was a plausible explanation – the muggle-loving House of de Sauvigny was a major economic pillar of the economy, and surely these deaths were merely aimed at destabilizing it. No one listened to his increasingly hysterical tales of a malevolent, secretly ambitious half-brother who was plotting to take control of the House.

But Caine's sixth sense was thrumming like a plucked string. The next in line after him, now that the others were dead or disappeared, were Dominic and Michel, who were Malfoy's puppets. They would turn the House over to Luc, claiming that he was by far the best candidate. No one would object, because everyone admired and pitied the bastard Malfoy, the safe Malfoy, the tamed Slytherin, who had once loved a muggleborn…

For years, Caine had hated, resented and secretly feared his Slytherin half-brother. Watching Luc, watching his easy ability and his vivid charisma, seeing the fascination he could inspire, was like watching a darker, more fully realised reflection of himself. He had recognized long ago, jealously, that Luc was stronger than he was - stronger, more ruthless, and infinitely more determined to succeed. The resentful sense of inadequacy had hardly been crippling, until Luc had intruded on the one place Caine had been sure he would never have to compete with his brother – the business side of the House. And the slight wariness had never blossomed into anything more than momentary fear, until his cousins began to die…

_

* * *

_

_One by one by one, methodically, he eliminated them, all those who stood in his way. First, the explosion – a crippling shock, one that he, too, had so nearly been caught in, should anyone suspect his motives. Then poor Adam, dying so nobly in the line of duty, and Tarquin, caught cohabiting with his mudblood whore. _

_He could say the word now, with all of the appropriate prejudice and contempt. He'd been practicing. _

_James and Sean, the twins, had been taken and murdered together, and Aethan had had a fatal heart attack brought on by stress, grief, and overwork. That left, after two years of concentrated effort, only Caine. But he was willing to wait, to draw it out, to make it the most exquisitely tortuous torment – all the others had been mere obstructions, obstacles in his path, and he had dealt with them dispassionately._

_But Caine… He hated his half-brother as he had never before hated anyone else. Caine had his family's unconditional acceptance and love, while Luc was incidental, a second, accidental son sharing in the heir's shadow. Caine had every single opportunity in the world presented on a silver platter and laid at his feet, while Luc had to fight for every advantage, for every scrap of power and influence. _

_Caine was legitimate, and would – unless fate and a stronger will stepped in – inherit everything that Luc had ever desired. In Luc's eyes, nothing – absolutely nothing – would ever absolve him of that one, unforgivable sin… _

* * *

Somehow, Moody was not surprised to see the identity of the latest Death Eater victim.

"So someone was hunting him," he said, grimly amused.

Harcourt squinted down at the sprawled, stiffened body of Caine de Sauvigny, the golden child of the House. "Malfoy was at the Lestrange's charity ball all last night," he said dryly. "He made a point to be noticed; there are full colour photos in the gossip columns."

Moody grunted. "That doesn't mean shit, and you know it. He's a canny bastard. He'll have got someone else to do it."

"No," Harcourt said absently, bending down to examine the bloody, bluish-white corpse. "He might have got someone else to do the others, but he would have done this himself. It's the culmination of years of ambition and hatred – the others were business, but this was intensely personal."

"You sound so sure of it."

"Oh, everybody knew it. It was open knowledge in Slytherin."

"Then why," Moody growled, "if _everyone_ knew of this famous hatred, of this unlikely ambition, does no one report it, or do anything about it?"

Harcourt looked startled. "Why? Because we were all Slytherins, and he's a Malfoy. Because everyone liked Luc, and everyone hated Caine. Because if he did, indeed, succeed in gaining the top spot, then it would be much better to be firmly on his side than against him." He shrugged. "It's better, sometimes, to be discreet; until you're sure it's to your advantage to talk."

"Discretion," Moody said, ominously calm. In the five or so years he'd worked with this young Slytherin cub, there had been a number of such moments of ominous calm. "You don't care that he's been deluded into thinking that he can use the Death Eaters for his own purposes? That he's murdered eight of his relatives and who knows how many others in this race to the top?"

"Oh, yes, I care," Harcourt answered, a flash of heat showing through his normal calm. "But until we can prove it, there's nothing we can do. He was seen, all night, at the charity ball. He has alibis for every single other murder, too; there's no way we can pin any of them on him. None of his friends and peers will talk, and the de Sauvigny won't talk, either –"

"I hardly think Anne de Sauvigny will take her darling boy's murder lying down. She'll move heaven and earth to see the bastard punished."

"Normally, yes, she would. But I hear that her husband's death shocked her, I understand, into a temporary decline."

"What does that mean?" he inquired sharply. Harcourt had his uses, and one of them was his uncanny ability to pick up inside information and gossip.

"It means, sir, that there was a palace coup even before Caine died. She's been gagged. They _must _have known that something like this would happen..."

"So they won't talk either." Moody drew a deep breath, walked a little while away, and smashed his fist into the wall. "The bastard had this planned, didn't he? He's had this all neatly planned out for months, probably years."

Harcourt said nothing, but stared down at Caine de Sauvigny, dead and abandoned in a lonely, filthy alleyway. "Poor bastard. You didn't even stand a chance."

_

* * *

_

_It was raining. It always did, at funerals._

_Luc looked suitably grave. _

_Anne looked old, embittered, worn; the last of her followers weary, defeated by youth, charisma, and terrifying ruthlessness._

_The young ones, ambitious, rebellious, disenchanted youth, proud and arrogant in their certainty, were too far gone to pull back now – but even they tiptoed around Luc's connection with _him

_Don't mention it – _

_Don't make it true…_

_In the rain, Luc remembered another cold, grey, blustery cemetery. And, just for a moment, it all tasted of ashes._

_He banished what might-have-been._

_Malfoy eyes steady, focused, opaque: humbly, he accepted responsibility._

_

* * *

_


	19. Chapter 19

A/N – Ha! Finished! In the (2yrs, 11mnths?) since I began this story, canon has developed radically and so have my ideas, preferences, and my writing style.So to celebrate my third anniversary on this site, I present the very last chapter.

Sincere gratitude to all those who have reviewed this over the years. I would not have finished it without your encouragement.

Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter or any of the canon concepts. Don't sue.

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

Her mother had insisted on a church wedding. Given a choice, Lily would have chosen a small, discreet ceremony with a civil celebrant and only their closest friends and family as witnesses. However, Elizabeth Evans and Rosemary Potter were not to be denied. Despite – or perhaps because of – the constant, terrorizing Death Eater attacks, James and Lily were to have a formal ceremony, complete with all the trappings and traditions.

The Potters, after all, had a place to uphold in wizarding society.

Lily smiled. In the last few minutes before the beginning of the ceremony, she took a moment to grieve for Kate. There were times when she forgot, certain that if she turned her head she would see her sister, laughing at her with those cool, mysterious eyes so like hers, and so different. Kate would have appreciated the matriarchal manoeuvring, would have laughed at the skirmishes over the floral arrangements, or the precise way of folding the napkins.

But Kate was dead. And when she turned her head and saw nothing, the full reality of her loss would come crashing back to her once more.

However, time passed, and so did even the most crippling pain. She wondered if Luc, too, had begun to heal; she knew, if few others did, just how devastated he had been by Kate's death. She had not seen him in years – he moved in very different circles, now – but she had sent him an invitation anyway. Once, he had loved her sister, and Lily had believed that one day he would become part of her family.

There was a discreet tap on the door, and she called out distractedly, her attention fixed on fastening her earrings. It opened to admit Luc. Stunned, she turned around, her eyes wide and shocked.

"Don't look so surprised," he said dryly, seating himself gracefully, his expensive robes settling perfectly around him. "You did send me an invitation."

"Yes," she replied faintly. "But I didn't expect you to accept." Slowly, she regained her composure. "This is a muggle church, half-filled with muggle guests."

"So it is. However, the House has a major stake in the muggle world. It would look very strange if I could not at least tolerate them." He smiled. "You and Kate taught me that. Do you remember our muggle summer?"

In 1975, James, Sirius and Luc had spent six weeks of the summer holidays at her parents' house, three pureblood children experiencing modern muggle life for the first time. Kate and Lily had introduced them to wild parties and experimental drugs, rock concerts and protest rallies, and the kaleidoscopic whirl of a much faster, more dynamic world. Kate, calculating, had spoken to Luc of Hiroshima…

"I remember," she said, smiling almost maliciously. "Do you still believe muggles are filthy, primitive animals?"

He sat very still. "I have never believed that, Lily."

"Then why are you running with the Death Eaters?"

She wondered if he would lie, or prevaricate. He was capable of it, she knew, but their shared loss and the odd, mirrored intimacy of their situation – it could have been he and Kate, in their wedding clothes, once – had disarmed him enough that she had scored a direct hit, and he had shown it.

"Is it so obvious?"

"Only to someone who knows you."

He shook his head, slowly. "You don't know me, Lily. You only think –"

"No." She interrupted him. "No, I don't know you, not like Kate did. But there are some things even I can understand." She reached out and touched his arm, felt, with a hidden jolt, the instinctive stiffening of rejection. "I'm not going to say anything, Luc, because Kate loved you and would have supported you no matter what you did. But I will ask you a favour."

He looked at her for a long, long time, ignoring her tearing, painful resemblance to Kate. "Blackmail?" he said lightly.

"No. A precaution." Unthinking, she laid a light, protective hand over her abdomen. His eyes dropped to follow the gesture, and came back to hers, smiling ironically.

"I always planned to ask Kate to be godmother," she continued, despite the pain of could-have-been, might-have-been. "In her absence – secretly, of course…"

"You are aware," he asked her dryly, "of the prophecy?"

"Yes," she said simply, with ironclad Gryffindoric determination. "I am very aware of it. And I am determined to protect my son."

He held her eyes for a moment longer, and then bowed his head in acquiescence. "Very well. If it comes to it, I will protect him."

She smiled, stood up – silently marveling at his manners as he automatically stood up with her – and held out her hand in the cool, regal manner she and Kate had practiced, laughing hilariously, for the Yule ball in their fourth year. He took it, bowed over it gracefully, and then truly smiled at her, his eyes laughing and unshadowed. "Be happy, Lily."

She saw him to the door. "You too, Luc. Be happy."

She watched him walk away, her eyes pensive and thoughtful, until he was completely out of sight, and then closed the door firmly on the past.

She would never see him again.

* * *

31st October 1981

Heavy, fraught silence lay over Godric's Hollow. Making his way cautiously out of the woods and up to the house, his heart racing, he knew all too well what he would find – he was too late.

Behind him, a twig snapped. Luc flinched, whirling with his wand already drawn.

"Did you honestly think you could save them?" Lucius asked. Behind Lucius, Snape stepped out of the shadows.

Luc stared at them blankly, breath heaving, eyes feral and wary, before he finally relaxed and lowered his wand. "I would have tried," he said grimly. "Had I known, I would have tried…"

Lucius shook his head. Snape walked past him to stand beside Luc in the ruined garden. There was something strangely rueful in Snape's normally contemptuous eyes. "Fool."

Luc ignored them both. Pulling on a thin, supple pair of leather gloves, he pushed on the front door, hanging brokenly from its hinges. It swung open slowly, revealing wanton wreckage and destruction. He stepped inside, wand still at the ready, but it was all too apparent that there was nothing left here to beware.

"What happened?" he asked finally.

"I don't know." Lucius, graceful as ever, picked his way delicately through what had once been the living room. "Our Lord sought to prevent the prophecy coming to fruition." Luc grunted, disgusted. "Yes, I know, but he believes such things. He came himself, with two others, to see it done. We waited, but suddenly our Marks burned, agonizingly, before going…dead. When he did not return…"

"So you've come to investigate."

Snape's head snapped up almost guiltily at that, but Lucius grinned. "You could say that. You could also say," he paused to bend over and examine a slumped form on the floor, "that we've come to make sure he's truly gone."

Regaining his composure, Snape scowled. "Naturally we are all of us completely loyal to the Dark Lord."

"Naturally," Luc agreed absently, joining Lucius. "Potter. The Killing Curse, of course." He stood up, looked about him, noting two other corpses, black-clad and with their faces masked. "And the two others you mentioned."

"And the mudblood and the child?" Snape, deliberately baiting, did not get the reaction he desired.

Luc eyed the staircase. "She probably ran. There'd be fireplaces up there."

Upstairs, they could see a slight blood trail leading to a wrecked door, torn off its hinges, and as they came closer they could feel the hair on the back of their necks rising, their magical senses almost overwhelmed by the feel of hugely powerful magic.

"Merlin!" Lucius breathed. "What happened here?"

Inside, they found the slack, silent form of Lily Potter, curled protectively around the body of her child. There was no sign of Voldemort, or any indication of his whereabouts. Experimentally, Luc pushed his sleeve out of the way and exposed the Dark Mark on the underside of left forearm.

It was fading. Where, only an hour ago, it had been bold, black and raised above the skin, now it was sinking, the colour leaching from it as if it were being reabsorbed into his body. They watched it, wondering, and each one of them with an extremely private sense of relief. And then, as they were absorbed by the extraordinary spectacle, there came a very faint, very thin cry.

"Perhaps," Lucius said with remarkable cool, "there was some merit to the prophecy, after all."

Luc bent down to pick young Harry Potter up. The thin wailing gained force and volume as the child, severely disturbed by the events of the night, expressed his dismay and displeasure in no uncertain terms. Unused to young children, Luc winced. Lucius sighed, and reached over to take him himself. With sure, gentle hands, he cradled the baby against his chest, where he could feel his heartbeat and living warmth.

Snape and Luc looked on, amazed, but knew better than to comment.

"Well?" Lucius asked, once the noise died down. "Where do we go from here?"

"I have everything I want," Luc said quietly. "Now I'd like to enjoy it without fearing denouncement from either side…"

Lucius gave him a long, thoughtful look. As an elder brother, he was, on occasion, uncomfortably perceptive. "And the child? His grandparents are dead, and you yourself described the aunt and uncle as muggles of the worst sort. If I remember Lily Evans correctly, she would have made some sort of provision…"

As he spoke, the baby stirred, moved sleepily, and then turned his head slightly to fix on the sounds of their voices. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

They were green.

Lily's eyes. Kate's eyes.

The eyes of every single muggle he'd ever murdered in the name of his ultimately empty ambition.

Shuddering, he turned away.

"Let Dumbledore decide," he said flatly. "He will be here soon, I'm sure. The Potters were ever his favourites."

Lucius shrugged, not caring enough to argue. Snape acquiesced, something unreadable in his eyes, but then Snape had become difficult to read in the last few years. Lucius replaced the child in his mother's arms, and then, removing every trace of their presence, leaving everything exactly as they had found it, they apparated away.

Dumbledore and the Aurors would be here soon enough.

* * *

Far, far away, on the other side of the world, the woman who had once been named Kate Evans jerked awake, tears streaming down her face as she pressed a hand to her aching heart.

Comforting, calming hands caressed her, pulling her into his shoulder as she slowly brought herself back under control. "What is it?" he asked, gently, still not willing to believe his luck in winning this beautiful, fragile woman.

"Nothing," she said, a little thickly. "A nightmare." She was still shaking, but she leaned into his warmth and closed her eyes. "A terrible nightmare…"

Benjamin Greyson hugged her tightly and whispered that she was safe, that he would never let anything hurt her, ever again.

She could almost believe him.

* * *

THE END

* * *


End file.
